Eyes Wide Closed
by sunlit.ballard
Summary: The Captiol isn't happy. And what happens when the Capitol isn't happy? They get revenge. Pray. Hope. Wish. But only one thing is certain. You will obey. Watch the brave be seperated from the cowardly; the smart from the thick. And the rebels from the followers.
1. Prologue

**The Capitol isn't happy. And what happens when the Capitol isn't happy? They get revenge.**

This is the 175th Quarter Quell and in this Quarter Quell... Well, why not keep it a surprise? Here's a hint though: It is best to obey.

**And obey they will.**

_**-.-.-Prologue- POV Gamemaker ~ Julius Aberdeen-.-.-**_

Even in his sleep, he wears the same blood thirsty sneer.

Julius Aberdeen, the Gamemaker for this year's 175th Hunger Games, rolls over in his sleep.

Just an hour ago he finished the final touches to the Arena. He had licked his puffy lips and grinned.

It was a special grin, one which was so malicious he only reserved it for occasions like this.

The Quarter Quell was set, along with a matching twist.

Both were prize trophies he ached to add to his collection.

"Your tie is askew, Julius."

It isn't often Julius feels afraid but at this moment, a tsunami of fear washed over his large body.

A dry cough from this man almost sent him toppling from his chair.

President Orcal lingered in the middle of the room, staring at the ornamental ceiling.

"How are things going, Aberdeen?"

He tried to respond but an odd urge to cower under his desk was crippling him.

When he did manage a word, his voice gave the impression he had been eating sandpaper.

"Fine."

Puckering his lips in thought, President Orcal stretched his ivory fingers to trace the curves of a porcelain Mockingjay cluttering a coffee table.

"This is pretty, Julius."

Julius, who seemed to be more concerned with rearranging the pencils on his desk, rose his eyes to match the most powerful man in Panem's stare.

"The very finest from District One, Sir."

The President mummered something Julius couldn't quite catch, before turning back to the figure.

Caressing the ceramic he began to speak in a voice dripping with tension.

"I trust you've heard of the disruptions in Twelve..."

Hesitating, Julius answered: "Don't worry. They died from the flogging, Sir."

President Orcal chuckled dryly at the Mockingjay and wandered over to Julius' oak desk.

"I'm not happy, Julius,"

"I know, Sir."

"I don't want an uprising. Not like the one with that stupid Katnip girl."

Leaning forward, Julius could faintly smell the alcohol on the president's breath.

"Ah... It was Katniss, Sir."

"Whatever," He plants his pale hands firmly on the table. "You must make them pay!"

"I will, Sir."

"Yes, I'm sure you will try..." Resigned, he wanders towards a leather recliner, concealed in the shadows of the room; stopping to peer at photos and trinkets on the way. Most people, Julius included, found it strange that as he moved, his cheekbones seemed to cut through the stiff air. His pale skin sat oddly tight around the bones in his face and his lips were the palest blue. Julius was just about to ask if he needed the fire started when unexpectedly, he turned around and spotlighted Julius in a gaze that would rival Satan's. "But if you don't succeed, Julius..."

"Yes, sir?"

"If you don't succeed, you will be the one paying."

Five hours and two bottles later, Julius placed his pen on the table.

It was a mess, littered with rejected paper and empty vodka bottles.

'Such fools,' he thought, pouring himself another shot, 'Believing that they really stand a chance.'

Yawning, he tipped back the alcohol and stumbled, fully-clothed, into his bed.

Tomorrow, the reapings begin.

Tomorrow, twenty-four children will be chosen to die.

Julius Aberdeen, the Gamemaker for this year's 175th Hunger Games, smiles in his sleep.


	2. District 1, Reapings

**Hello tributes!**

District's 1, 2 and 3 are full so I will start with the chapters for each of these districts.

I can't continue with this story until I have the rest completed so feel free to tell your friends or enter another tribute.

**Here is District 1. Enjoy!**

_Your Gamemaker, Ellie_

**POV ~ Aubrey Edge-**

"Feeling confident, son?"

"Dad, It's me. Of course I am."

My father lets out a small chuckle. He's smiling, but his eyes are dead. He's worried, perhaps even frightened about what will happen to me.

My father has always been weak, never had the guts I have. I can only assume my courage comes from my deceased mother.

I give my round, red-cheeked father a sour once over and decide that my mother is where my looks must have come from too.

He leans in towards me, so close I can smell the liquor on his breath.

"You can win, Aubrey. But to win you must stop being so arrogant!"

Ugh. I stand up disgusted, knocking my chair back in the process. I tower over the man before me but all I see is a wounded animal.

"Father, I will win. I am certain! I don't even _need_ sponsors!"

At times like these, something happens inside me.

I don't understand it and if I'm being completely honest, it scares the crap out of me.

All of my skin and bone and flesh starts to almost buzz in anticipation for violence.

My mother used to call it a 'hunter's instinct'.

"_Look, Aubrey! See that bird. We used to shoot birds like that when I was a girl."_

_Mum's fingers brush the clouds as she points at the loons soaring freely above us._

_She takes my hand and I leach on to her tightly._

_Too tightly is seems because shortly she enfolds me in her long arms._

"_Aubrey? What's the matter?"_

_Hissing and moaning fills my bloodstream as my innocent body becomes animal and alien._

_I hold onto the only life line I have._

I tried to tell Mum that day of the evil that was bleeding life from me.

But all she did was praise me.

Then, one day after school, she took me down to the training centre.

"_This is your son?" The trainer peered down at me sourly._

"_And the future Victor."_

I will never forget the way she smiled after saying that.

Right now wasn't a time for fond memories however.

The boiling in my blood was starting to climax.

I needed a release before my internal organs gave in.

I turn round and slam my hand through a painting of a lake. It's my favourite painting out of all the artwork that inhibits this house; all soft clouds and sunshine. I use to sit on the floor and stare up at it for hours, certain that the trees moved in the painted wind.

And then my mother died.

And the child I had been died with her.

For a moment I feel a flicker of regret but it gives out under more rage.

"I don't need your help either!"

I'm yelling and my father looks pale.

Good.

"I don't need anyone's help! I am a victor!"

Slam. My hand goes through a window, leaving shards of glass on the white carpet.

"I always _was_ a victor!"

Whack! And a blue china vase goes flying, colliding with the wall.

"AND I WILL ALWAYS **BE** A VICTOR!"

Silence.

He's crying. I can see the shake in his hands.

I look around at the destruction around me. Our once beautiful, luxurious dining room is a battle zone.

He stands to face me.

Composing himself he says, "May the darkness have mercy on your soul."

And he leaves the room.

Leaving me alone.

My eyebrows pinch together. How dare he talk to me like that!

I have another vase in my hand, and I'm ready to continue my destroying spree when I see her.

A yellowed photo in a gold picture frame.

My mother.

What would those lips say if she was still alive?

I already know.

I put the vase carefully down and take a second look around me.

My mother's pride and joy was this dining room. She spent 7 years creating it so that the light fell just right on the red arm chair in the corner; so that the table matched the chandeliers and the cutlery matched everything else.

And in 10 minutes I destroyed all that hard work.

"Sophia!" I call.

A maid comes rushing through the kitchen door, no doubt she had been watching my show of destruction.

"Get me a broom."

And for three hours before the reaping I clean the dining room, trying to recreate my mothers dream again as best as I can.

The shards of glass capture my reflection; Short black hair and high cheekbones.

But the arrogant smirk that normally sits on my lips is gone, along with the hate that normally swamps my eyes.

"It's time to leave now son."

His soft voice startles me, and I turn to see my strong, determined father.

The wounded animal has gone.

I walk to him with my head bowed and defeated.

He lifts my chin and I am forced to look into the eyes of a predator.

My father is prey no more.

"You can win if you _think_, Aubrey."

I remember my reaction when he said the likes of this before and I feel the same anger bubble up in my chest.

But all I say is, "I know."

**POV~ Deimo Torn**-

Someone wolf-whistled.

Of course they did. It was only to be expected.

I smooth out invisible lines on my black dress.

I love how my legs look in it; long and strong.

And I bet the boys standing around me like how they look too.

My eye's wander around the square, lingering on certain people:

The muscular 'man' with the plump lips I kissed last summer.

The red-headed, brace-face who was snivelling into her friend's shoulder. Definitely _not _District 2 material.

Silver Audreen, whose golden hair brushes the ground.

Ace Lye, who is sneering at a couple of weak, pathetic 13-year-olds.

The boy with the sly, blue eyes.

I vaguely remember that his name is Aubrey. His shoulders are tense, which after years of training, I know means that he is waiting for an attack. But an attack from what?

And then I catch my brother's eye. His eyebrows are furrowed together and his mouth is twisted in a disapproving line. I suddenly feel very young.

My brother mouths the words "Cut it out." His face never loses the ugly sneer.

I drop my gaze.

I know what he thinks of me; A **slut,** to put it lightly.

I shake my head. He just doesn't understand! It's not bad! Everyone does it!

Everyone has more then one boy on the go!

Everyone who's stunning like me anyway, I mentally add.

Someone taps the mike, and the clip starts but I'm not listening.

I wonder how my Great-Aunt, Clove, felt when she stood in this square, all those years back, only in District 2.

Frightened?

Not a chance.

Nothing scared her. She was brave and determined and ruthless.

Like me.

I shrug my brother's gaze off and examine the escort.

I snort.

She's the most ridiculous-looking one yet.

Tiger patterns climb up her legs and I swear her wig is two metres high.

Her bright orange lips are moving with false cheerfulness.

But I'm not listening.

What about Clove and her district partner, Cato?

Clove with her knives and Cato with his spears.

The leaders of the career pack unquestionably.

They both knew one must die, and they were both prepared to kill each other when the time came. They probably could have killed each other without blinking an eye.

But in the last few dying minutes of Clove's life, I swear I saw something in Cato's eyes.

A look I've only ever heard of.

Love.

"Let's begin."

I'm brought back to a sharp reality.

Her gloved hand fishes around for about half a minute. That half a minute is all I need to grow bored.

Her fingers hover over a piece of paper.

She still hasn't chosen and I start to tap my foot impatiently.

Her finger's finally pluck a piece of paper from the glass bowl.

But I'm already out of patience.

"I volunteer!"

Throwing back my shoulders, I strut up to the stage and gallop up the stairs.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Deimo Torn," I reply coldly.

"What a beautiful name!" She starts stroking my long, black hair possessively.

Her scaly touch sends shivers down my spine so I spin around, shooting her a look of daggers.

My glare sends her off balance and she stumbles towards the boy's ball.

While she's shuffling around, I share a small, seductive smile with the audience.

Someone wolf-whistles.

But of course they do. It's only to be expected.

**POV~Aubrey Edge**-

Her hand's in the bowl but my hand's in the air.

We don't mess about in District 2.

I've recovered my cold posture from this morning.

No one would dare mess with me in this state.

But still, three other boys shout the same words I do; "I volunteer!"

Too bad for two of them though. I'm already walking towards the stage, ahead of their footsteps.

The third volunteer, someone who obviously harbours a new kind of stupidity, tries to get there before me.

My hand slips into my blazer pocket and I close my fingers around the knife my Trainer gave me yesterday.

It has a curved edge and one tiny ruby embedded in the gold hilt.

I earned this knife through blood and sweat.

Time to use it.

He doesn't even have time to blink.

I stab him in the back as he tries to climb the steps.

I step over the dead boy, never slowing my pace, and make my way to the escort who introduced herself as Taliton Louisse.

Her startled face only pleases me.

I wipe the blade on my charcoal-coloured pants and, much to my satisfaction, I hear her gulp.

"Well.. Um... shake hands then.."

I laugh, refusing to look at the female volunteer.

"Sorry, but I don't shake hands with corpses."

I'm not sure the audience can hear her but I do.

"I guess that makes two of us."

I turn to face the girl with the bright eyes.

And deep inside those eyes was the fire of a killer.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_Did you like it? I can't continue unless you review!_

Next chapter: District 2: Final Goodbyes

_To be updated within 3 days._

**DISCLAMIER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES BOOKS OR MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS.**


	3. District 2, Say goodbye

_**A/N: Hello tributes!**_

_I finally have a break today from my Drama preparations!_

_I mean, it's only because I'm sick in bed but a break is still a break ;)_

_**WARNING: **On some of your tributes I've made slight changes to make the story line flow easier. Most of the changes you don't notice, but if you do notice them and you don't like the alteration then just PM me and I'll be happy to fix it._

_Here is District 2 and District 3 will follow right behind it._

_Enjoy!_

_Your Gamemaker, Ellie _

**District 2-Farewells**

**-Quilla Perchbridge POV-**

I can feel her crying into my shoulder, but she's trying desperately hard to cover it.

"Oh Quinette," I moan.

Although we may be twins, She's nothing like me.

I am ruthless, strong, in control.

Quinette seems to own no control at all.

I push her away roughly, not caring how this effects her.

Not very well it seems, because Quinette breaks down in a sobbing heap on the ivory-coloured couch.

Even with puffy eyes, she looks like a model.

Her lips squish themselves together in a pout and her hand, her long, piano-playing hand, delicately shades her eyes.

The picture of innocence.

Another characteristic we don't share.

I finger my pearl necklace and look over distainly at my parents.

My father looks coldly back.

It's an unusual look for him to be wearing. His brown eyes are normally soft and proud.

I've only seen a look like this once, when I was younger. I was around seven, I think.

His look had been so angry, so cold and so... so _hurt _that I had almost felt ashamed.

Almost.

But I don't feel feel any regret when I reflect on how I pushed _her_ into the river.

Her name was Mary-Louise; a stuck up rich girl with too many fake friends. I can remember envying her hair. She had long, gorgeous blonde hair that fell to her waist. My hair was blonde too but my mother had cut it off short, into a bob. The day she died, she wasn't mocking me about my hair, although she had done so before. No, it was reaping day and our siblings had gone off to the square. We wanted to look as pretty as they did in their reaping outfits. So our mothers dressed us up in summer frocks, they fashioned our hair into elaborate curls and plaits and even applied a smudge of red lipstick onto our pouting lips. We were equally pretty that day, neither of us better then the other.

But she still had to get one over me.

She still had to win.

"_Look at me, look at me," _she had taunted.

"_Look at my dress, Quilla! It's prettier then yours!"_

I can remember that ball of hate, jealousy and anger rise up in my chest at her words.

That ball of fire licked at my ribs, just itching to escape my body and engulf her in it's flames.

"_Prettier! Prettier then you!"_

The flames gnawed at my lungs.

I tried to suppress them, I really did. But I know a large part of me wanted the flames to over power my young body and push her into the icy water below the bridge we were standing on.

I stayed strong until she repeated herself.

For the last time.

"_Look at me Quilla! Prettier then you!"_

And I did look at her.

And her dress was better then mine.

And she did look prettier.

And so I let myself be set on fire.

I don't feel a shred of regret when I remember how her flailing hands begged to be rescued.

I don't feel a thing when I remember how I was the one that caused her to die.

Nothing.

Nothing but pleasure anyway.

"This is for you, Quilla," my mother says, snapping me out of my flashback.

Her soft hands encircle mine and a stone drops into my hands.

Not just any stone however.

A diamond.

"We...We wanted..." She tries to begin but her voice breaks and the tears start pouring down her pale face.

"We wanted this to be your token when you volunteered two years from now," My father finishes for her.

"But you decided to jump the gun!" Quinette adds hysterically.

I hold the diamond up to the dreamy light, filtering through the Justice Building's stained windows.

The diamond is about a quarter of the size of my hand and is coloured red.

Blood red.

The diamond is attached to a thin gold chain and I realize it's a necklace.

I surprise myself but actually liking it.

I like the way it captures the sunlight and then throws it back in rainbow form across the white-washed walls.

"It could have been bigger," I say anyway.

My mother starts a fresh wave of sobbing into my father's shoulder.

**-Maximus Sharp POV-**

Flip. Heads. Flip. Tails.

I sit on the plush green sofa waiting for this time allotted for farewells to end.

Flip. Tails.

No one will come visit me, that I'm sure of.

Flip. Heads.

The only company I have is this gold coin; My token.

Flip. Tails.

It was my mother's. I remember the day she gave it to me...

"_Now Max, remember what's important in life and you'll go far."_

Her wide, blue eyes had stared deep into mine as she spoke. Her eyes had always reminded me of lakes. Huge, crystal clear lakes.

I always wished, and even wish now, that I could find a pair of lakes like her eyes.

Lakes I could dive into and swim around serenely for all eternity.

I squeeze my eyes shut and remember the lakes the five year old me had imagined. There would be bushes, laden with juicy fruit around the edges. The water would be so clear, I could see my feet and the underwater life living in the shallows. My mother would be there and my father would be there too, singing the wild softly to sleep. I could just close my eyes, lean back on the water and...

My eyes fly open and I roughly shake my head.

It's no good imagining a paradise that doesn't exist.

Especially since there isn't a mother or a father to share it with.

The fires came, devouring my happy family in just one gulp; devouring my mother's beautiful lake eyes in just one mouthful.

A knock on the door startles me.

"Sharp," My trainer gives me a nod.

I quickly rise from the couch, slipping my coin into the pocket of my denim jeans.

"Commander Harris," I nod back.

A rare smile breaks his stony expression.

"Hay! We're family. Call me Jed."

He's not exactly a father but he was all I had when the orphanage couldn't handle me any more.

"Remember to swing right, that way they'll have to use their left to get close to you."

"Ha! Please! They won't get within three feet of me!"

Jed claps me on my shoulder and looks hard into my lime green eyes. Through my thin cotton shirt I can feel where his hand sits upon the edge of my scar.

A scar he inflicted in training.

"Maybe, if people get within three feet _mentally _of you, you should let them get a bit further."

Wh...What?

I try to ask him what in Panem he means but the peacekeepers are already crashing through the doors and pulling him away. The doors swing shut, leaving me with my mouth wide open.

Leaving me alone.

_**A/N: **What did you think? Did I get your character right if I've already written about them? Do you think one of them will win? I mean they ARE careers of course. Please review and tell me who, out of the four careers you've met so far, is your favourite. Who is your least favourite? Why? Thanks so much to the people who have reviewed! It means so much and helps me improve this story. _Chapter 3-District 3-Train ride by day _will be up probably within a couple of hours! :) **IMPORTANT: I still need a District 6 male, a District 8 male and a District 10 male. I only really need 1 or 2 of these because what's left over will become bloodbath tributes.**_

**DISCLAMIER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES OR MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS FEATURED.**


	4. District 3, Speed

_**A/N: **Hello tributes!_

_If you wonder why some of the POV's are a bit shorter then the very 1st ones, it's because I'm just itching to start the games. Hope you don't mind!_

_Here is district three!_

_Enjoy!_

_Your Game maker, Ellie x_

**District 3**

**-Sonlty Volt POV-**

The train didn't rattle like I thought it would.

The books I've read talked about trains.

The trains before Panem.

They were sleek, blue, hardy.

They were efficient, colourful, pieces of tagged art.

They were strong, powerful, loud.

Coal-eaters.

They sounded magical.

The sounded wonderful.

They sounded _real._

Not like these grey metal containers that don't make a sound.

Sure, the insides might me tasteful and decorative, but that can't mask what they really are:

Transport for the dead.

I stare at the green/blue smudge out my window; not really seeing it.

There isn't a way in the world that this is real.

Me? Sontly Volt? District three's nobody off to fight against _real_ people?

Real somebodies?

These facts only lead me to believe this isn't true.

But I can feel the boy next to me shift his weight on the velvet cushions.

He's defiantly real. My mind can't imagine a hairdo that soft and bright.

Through the haze blanketing my brain, I remember his name is Titan.

If this dream is real, then he won't have much of a chance; he looks about as strong as me.

And that's saying something.

"What do you think, Volt?"

I wasn't listening to our mentor, Gilligan, who was giving supposedly 'life saving' tips for the arena.

I zoned out once I realised he was just using this time to brag.

"Wh...What?" I reply.

My nose drips. I push my glasses up. I bite my lip. My blotchy face begins to itch.

Every time someone looks at me, this happens.

Me and my body; What a well oiled machine we are!

Always ready to embarrass ourself.

Never missing a chance to mortify me further.

"I asked you what you think the best method to get water is," Gilligan sighs.

He really has already given up on me. I may have brought that on myself, never listening to his 'wisdom'. I start to panic. He could give all the gifts from the sponsors to Titan instead of me.

And then the truth dawns on me.

It won't matter.

Because I'm not going to make it further then the Cornucopia.

Instead of having a full-scale meltdown like expected, I just shrug hopelessly.

There isn't anything I can do.

"Oh well I..."

Even though I've made this new discovery, I still embarrass myself unwillingly.

Nose drips. Glasses up. Bite lip. Face itches.

"Hm?" Gilligan casts his eyes on a couple of Capitol Magazines that lie on the coffee table in front of us. They're all about what trashy clothes are cool to wear and what face transplant is in right now.

Complete rubbish.

"I guess you would...um..."

Drip. Push. Bite. Itch.

"I guess you would assess your surroundings and go from there, right Sontly?"

Titan's hazel eyes are wide open, staring straight into mine.

"Right," I whisper back.

**-Titan Rommel POV-**

I run a hand through my platinum blonde hair.

Gilligan was mocking the girl beside me and even though I attempted to stop him, he was determined to bring the girl to tears. Sontly tip-toed off to her room crying a few minutes ago and Gilligan has been chugging back the wine ever since.

I stare down at the egg and bacon lunch in front of me, frowning, trying to puzzle out Gilligan and his motives.

I go over everything I know about him, searching for some clues; He won the 155th hunger games when he was 16 by tearing out his last opponent's liver. He was aiming for the heart I suppose. I glance up at Gilligan from under my long, blonde eyelashes. Something small is stuck on the top of his finger and he's bringing it closer to his face for inspection. With a shrug, he places his finger inside his mouth, swallowing what ever was attached to his finger moments ago.

Ugh. I drop my gaze. Okay, so I now know Gilligan is neither a man of hygiene or wit.

That means he must have won the game with brawn.

I hang my head lower.

Brawn.

The one thing I don't have.

When I was reaped, my hands started shaking, my world started spinning and I swear my head almost hit the ground.

Only the knowledge that my brain could outwit the muscle I would be facing calmed me; gave me hope.

Now that hope is gone.

"So listen here boy!" Gilligan drunkenly yells.

Spit flies everywhere.

My features remain placid.

"Now that we've established that that ugly girl is useless, we can focus on you!"

I remain tranquil, even if I think his words aren't entirely fair.

After Sontly has a bath, I'm sure she will be beautiful.

"Do you remember that Hunger games that had that damned Mockingjay in it? We could do that star-crossed lovers angle?"

"I'm not entirely comfortable with that idea," I say collectedly.

"No your right! Your not handsome enough!"

He starts to chuckle, so obviously drunk, that when our escort comes into the room, he can't hide it. I'm sure our escort is the only smart one alive, because, although she despises liquor and I'm sure she wants to punch Gilligan squarely in the nose right now, she leaves the room before he can get his filthy hands on her.

He chuckles again and then leans across the table and belches loudly in my face.

If I was a normal tribute, I'm sure these actions would have me in a rage.

I'd be tossing over tables, or yelling perfectly pin-pointed words, designed to hurt.

But I'm not a normal tribute because normal tributes don't even have _half_ of my brain mass in use.

And that's why I just sit there, sedately.

"You got something wrong with you boy?" He points with his glass, and brown alcohol sloshes over the side.

"No sir. I'm perfectly fine... Unlike you."

His face mushes it's self together in a look of questioning but before he can respond, he hurls the contents of his stomach into the isle.

"Learn how to keep your liquor down, Gilligan," I say stonily.

He groans softly, as I sit him up right and hand him a cup of steaming coffee.

"Wh...Why are you helping?"

"Because no one deserves a beard of puke, Sir."

"Oh," Is all he replies.

I steal the liquor from the table and pour it down the sink.

Then I settle myself into one of the secluded corners in the train and study '_Fermat's latest theorem'._

Because if I can't win with brawn, then my brain is all I have left.

And I intend to use it.

**[-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-]**

_**A/N**: Done! Boy, am I on a role! Which one is your favourite so far? Which one do you hate? Please review because the reviews help me improve my story. Also, which district is your favourite so far? By the way, Once all of the district POVs between 1-11 are done, there will be 1 chapter before district 12, announcing the Quells theme :)_

**DICLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES OR MOST OF THESE TRIBUTES.**


	5. District 4, By moonlight

_**A/N: Hello tributes!**_

_I am just SO excited about the games!_

_Can't wait!_

_Here is district 4! And yes, there is romance in this one. Don't worry, my hunger games aren't going to be the kind where everyone falls in love -roll of eyes- those get boring fast._

_Anyway, enjoy!_

_Your Game maker, Ellie x_

**District 4**

**-Talise Brokelynn POV-**

Although the landscape is a grey blur, the moon never changes it's shape.

It still looks like it does back in District 4.

I can almost make out the man on the moon, although not as clearly as I could back home.

The man on the moon... I wish I could be him right now.

In fact, I wish I could be anyone else right now.

Anyone who isn't a tribute.

I finger the azure stone necklace my mother gave me thoughtfully.

I wonder what my family is doing right now. Is mum making a dinner of salty fish and seaweed, like she does almost every night? Is my brother teasing my sisters? Is dad yelling at my already broken family? Or are they all crowded around our little TV screen, drying the tears from their eyes? Have they tightly shut the doors or are people coming to comfort them? Do they have the windows tightly shut? Or are they open, letting the soft saline breeze visit our house?

Thoughts like these are the reason I can't sleep.

It's probably 4.30 in the morning and I was sent to bed at 8 last night, after filling my belly with lamb and turkey.

"_Isn't this wonderful?"_ Oplia, our escort, had asked brightly at the dinner table.

"_No,"_ Coral had replied.

Remembering the shock on Oplia's face sends a smile to mine.

But it doesn't last long.

Cailmy's shriek of terror still rings in my ears.

"_Don't let them take me! Please, Talise! Don't let them take me!"_

I shudder. Of course I was going to volunteer for her.

I wasn't going to let these dreadful games take my best friend away, possibly forever.

So instead of giving them Cailmy, I gave them myself.

I snuggle deeper into my cocoon of blankets.

Once I gave up on the prospect of sleep, I transported half my bedding to the little windowsill so I could watch the moon.

As I watch the moon inch across the night sky, my fingers trail over the scar next to my left eye.

I don't think my dad meant to hurt me, I think it just happened. I watched him crumple once he realised what he had done, I knew he was sorry.

But no one else did.

I'm still puzzling over my fathers actions when Coral puts a soft hand on my shoulder.

"Boo," he whispers.

I smile up at his handsome face.

"Sorry sweetie, but you're going to have to be a lot quieter if you want to scare me. I heard you moving the moment you woke up."

Coral sits down beside me on the window sill.

"I'm really that loud?"

"You probably woke the dead."

Normally, we would both laugh; laugh until we were in hysterics.

But not this time.

Because talking about the dead hits too close to home.

I shiver. Coral puts an arm around my shoulder and I lean into him.

"You scared?" He whispers, his breath tickles my ear.

"Yes, but it'll be alright in the end."

"You really think that?"

To be honest, no, I don't think it will be alright, but I don't dare say that to Coral.

"Of course. We would've had to die anyway."

I say this in such a bright, cheery tone that Coral actually laughs.

His face is twisted in such a giant display of amusement that I can't help but laugh too.

We're both laughing and rolling around on the floor when Coral grabs my hand.

He's panting and silent laughter still causes his body to shake.

When he calms down, he props himself up on one elbow and looks down on me.

"Do you think it will be alright, Coral?"

Coral stares down at me, then starts rhythmically combing his fingers through my autumn-coloured hair.

He's never been one to lie to me so I'm not surprised when he whispers back:

"No."

**(-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-)**

**-Coral Rubnatsky POV-**

Her tawny eyes stare widely up at me.

Frightened.

My brilliant, sunshine-filled Talise is broken.

I've seen her like this before, when her dad hurt her.

So broken, so wreaked, so hollow...

I wanted to make him feel like that. I wanted him to feel like that times one hundred. And when he felt that bad, it still wouldn't cut it. I remember walking into their cosy cottage by the sea, looking into that savage man's eyes, so like Talise's and punching him squarely in the jaw before he could utter a word. I thought Talise would be grateful.

She was the complete opposite.

"_What the hell, Coral! Who the hell do you think you are!"_

"_I..He hurt you!" I yelled back._

"_He's my father!" She rubbed her father's arched back in soothing circles. I could see the blood pouring onto the floor._

"_I just wanted to help," I whispered softly before staggeringly blindly out her door._

She was determined anyway, with or without my help, to get back on her feet, and hold her head a little bit higher.

And that's where she's been ever since. Strong, optimistic and friendly.

She always had a smile on her face.

Until she volunteered.

And I watched her come to pieces bit by bit, all over again.

No one else saw that pain but me.

Her long fingers reach up and brush some of my rustic-coloured hair away from my eyes.

"Will you promises to win with me?" She mouths.

"Win with you?" I repeat, puzzled.

"Yea," she smiles, "because if I die, I'm still going to be with you in spirit; to see you win. Your little ghost!" She attempts to joke, but I'm overpowered by the horror that courses through my veins.

"Die?" I echo.

Her eyes stop sparkling and the tiny smile on her round lips fade.

"Coral, Only one can make it out."

"Yea," I rise angrily to my feet, "Yea, and that is going to be you!"

"Coral!" She says sharply, bringing her back into focus.

"The reality is that neither of us may make it out."

Her mouth is pinched into a hard line and her nostrils are flared.

She steps closer till the top of her head brushes my chin. She tilts her head up and looks stubbornly into my eyes. I try to take a step back but she has her hands firmly clamped around my arms. I'm left with only one option and that is to look into her hazel eyes.

"Listen, Coral. You will try your hardest to survive you hear me?"

Her sweet hazel eyes.

Her auburn locks.

Her freckled nose.

I knew then I would protect her till the end.

I don't have a doubt about being good at protecting her.

I mean, I wasn't top of the class in the career training centre for nothing, right?

I smile down at her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I whisper,

"I hear you."

**(-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-)**

_A/N: Three districts in one day! WOW! This one is quite different isn't it? Do you like it? And yes they fall in love, because it fits with the story line etc. So don't rant about why tributes SHOULDN'T fall in love :P Review please! Which district is your favourite? Which tribute is your favourite? Which is your least favourite? Why? _

**DISCLAMIER: I DO NOT OWN THE HIUNGER GAMES OR MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS**


	6. District 5, Lap of Luxury

_A/N: **Hello tributes!**_

_I have a proposition for you all! After reading the chapter below, please tell me **one thing to work on and one thing I did really well (keeping in mind the previous chapters).** _

_Virtual brownies will be sent ;)_

_Some of you have asked how the Victor will be chosen._

_I've already chosen the bloodbaths. Don't panic! I've created all the bloodbaths, so your tributes won't be one. :P_

_From there, I'll just see how the storyline goes._

_Once it's down to top 5, I'll seriously consider each character._

_I may even ask you why you think your character should win._

_Then the 3 from the top 5 I pick will be put in a hat and the victor drawn out._

_I know, it's very long and over-complicated but this way I can partially control who wins while not playing favourites for maximum awesomeness in the story. Everyone cool with that?_

_Your Game maker, Ellie x _

**District 5**

**(-.-.-.-.-.-Grit Gerria POV-.-.-.-.-.-)**

"_Grrrit!_ The coffee table is no place to put your filthy boots!"

Lazily, I roll my head towards my escort, Jento.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Jento's already dyed pink skin flushes but she makes an effort to look superior as she says; "You will remember your manners, Grit!"

"Course I will." I say.

Then, just because I can, I grab a grape from the bowl beside me, throw it high in the air and catch it in my mouth.

Her eyes widen at my lack of manners.

Just for good measure, I make sure I chew the grape nosily, with my mouth wide open so that the juice runs down my chin.

She gives a high pitched squeal, and tiptoes out of the room on sky-scraper heels.

A slow smile grows across my face.

I lean back into the soft, purple pillows, putting my hands behind my head.

I stare at a swirl of ink on the ceiling wondering if my friends miss me.

I mean, we did flat together, work together, _live_ together after all.

I miss the flatting house because, although we weren't living in the lap of luxury, we were all men, living for the same thing:

To just _be_ men.

I remember the chipped, yellow walls and the mouldy floorboards. They place is nothing like this District Level Room but I still like it better.

At the sound of her voice my heart jumps.

"You know, Gerria, that wasn't very nice." She says in a dawdling purr.

My head whips round and I see her pale, perfect face.

Perfect apart from the uniformly straight scar that runs across her left cheek.

She's standing in the middle of the living room, where Jento had been moments before.

No sound ever alerted me to her being there.

She lazily struts towards the couch, letting her fingers caress the soft fabric.

"You could have hurt her feelings, and then where would you be? No sponsors, no brownie points, no nothing."

She perches herself on the edge of the violet couch and plucks one, swollen grape from the bowl at my side.

"And there you would be; poor, sad Grit, all gift-less in the heart of the arena."

Her smooth, long-fingered hand throws the grape at least a metre into the air and, never taking her dark grey eyes off me, catches it in her mouth.

Catching me off guard.

_Silence_

"Well Gerria? Got anything to say to that?"

I hate her.

No, not hate.

I _loathe_ her.

Loathe her for making fun of me like she has been ever since we stepped onto that podium...

"_Why are you crying, grit?" Her grey eyes stare down pityingly at me._

"_I..." I croak, but the tears flood my eyes once more._

"_Yes, Grit?" She lays a soft hand lightly on my shoulder, her eyes never leaving mine._

_Her eyes were asking me to trust her, telling me that if I told her the truth, She'd never let anything harm me._

_And so I told her the only truth that my brain could clearly comprehend._

"_I'm scared." I whisper._

"_I know. You've been a pathetic baby from the moment you were born."_

_Wh..What?_

_She pats my arm twice._

"_Now now, maybe the Capitol will realize you're too young to be reaped and they'll let you go back to your posse of hopeless children." She drops her hand and turns to face the crowd._

_**Her crowd.**_

_Because District five has always been Rosalie's district._

_Reflexively, I scan the crowd for the guys I share a house with._

_Their solemn faces stare into mine._

_I catch the eyes of Harri the most out of all of them._

"_You are a man," he mouths._

_He's right. I am a man. But I'm sure not acting like one._

_After a minute of taking in his words, I dry my eyes and straighten out my body._

_I throw my chin up high and roll my shoulders back._

_I feel strong and in control again._

_But I can see, out of the corner of my eye, that Rosalie is still smirking._

I wanted to punch her then; thrust my fist straight in between her pretty eyes.

But hurting another tribute before we entered the arena has severe penalties.

I didn't hate her enough then to take those penalties.

But I do now.

I'm about to launch my self at her when Jento comes in.

"Behaving ourselves are we?" She asks in her clipped Capitol accent.

"Of course we are." Rosalie replies, fluttering her eyes at our escort.

Jento melts on the spot.

I roll my green eyes.

No surprises there.

"Of course you are." Jento repeats dazedly and teeters out of the room.

Her grey eyes are quick to reattach themselves mine.

"And that, young jedi, is how _I'm_ going to win the games."

**{-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-}**

**-Rosalie Audriza-**

"I'm not young. I'm older then you!"

His cheeks flush and I can see he's furious.

But of course he is.

I have that mood-changing affect on people.

I idly inspect my oval nails searching for any speak of grime.

"Besides," He says, "Who died to make you queen?"

I raise my eyes to his.

I didn't think human beings could ever be this stupid.

"No one had to die to hand me my perfect qualities or my natural ability to lead."

So stupid. He won't last 5 minutes in the arena.

Casually, I fluff my brown hair and it effortlessly morphs into something Aphrodite would be jealous of.

To my immense surprise, his reply is a smirk.

"Oh Aduriza,"

My eyes twitch. How dare he call me by my last name.

That name is a name only the privileged can own, let alone speak.

"No one may have died to give you your crown,"

He leans in and his sticky breath dances across my cheek.

"But I can promise that you will die to give me mine."

And with that he stands up, stretches – revealing his belly to all – and strides across the room.

He stops at the polished oak door and turns to face me once more.

"Sleep well, Aduriza."

The lights go off.

And I sit there in the dark.

Thinking up painful ways to kill him.

**{-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-}**

_**A/N: **I know Rosalie's POV is short but that's because she is mentioned so much in Grit's POV._

_Now, down to serious business. PLEASE REVIEW! **Who's your favourite district? Why?** Big cyber cookies to *mary ali cullen* who always reviews! Thanks! Means a lot! :) _Chapter 6~ When we come out to play _will be up within 2 weeks. _


	7. District 6, When we come out to play

_**A/N:** Hello tributes!_

_Here is district 6._

_Enjoy._

_Your Game Maker, Ellie x_

**District 6**

**-Annoise Heflot, Female, 12-**

Killers. All around me.

And I'm afraid.

Afraid of everything this training means.

I can't hear their trash talk or their smart comments because I'm deaf, but I can see them throwing knives into the hearts of wooden dummies.

I can see them throwing metal balls that probably weigh about the same as me across the room, making dents in the training room walls.

I can see spears thrown with frightening accuracy.

Edible plants are picked with hands that are more skilled then my eyesight.

And my eyesight is a force not to be messed with.

My eyes land on the supposedly unstable District 7 female, all alone, trying to light a fire without matches.

She's frustrated but not throwing things like the District 1 boy does when he can't produce fire.

He's yelling at the trainers, throwing weights and knives any which way.

The district 1 female struts up to him and slaps his cheek hard.

As she walks away, her green eyes ablaze with unknown anger, his eyes trail after her and I swear his hands are shaking.

Not many people saw that tremor.

But then again, not many people have eyes like mine.

Throwing off her sudden anger, she returns to throwing punches at a trainer.

Before five minutes are up, the trainer's face is already bloody and bruised.

A cold smile lights up her face as he staggers off the mat, making me shudder.

I turn around, and see the District 9 female is holding a small star in her hand.

'Star?' My silent mind thinks, 'What good is a _star _going to be in a bloodthirsty arena?'

When the star whizzes across the room faster then a speeding bullet I understand.

Especially when two peace-keepers carry the shredded remains of the dummy out the heavy-iron doors.

My eyes are keen enough to spot the district 5 girl standing detached from the rest of the commotion.

She's pouring different coloured powder into a test-tube of blue liquid.

Slyly, when her trainer isn't looking, she adds something extra.

My hawk-eyes just registered it before it went into the concoction.

Primrose.

Innocent smile adorning her face, she hands it to her trainer.

After gulping it down, he givers her a winning smile.

After that, he's dead in 5 seconds flat.

Shock pulses through my body.

That must be illegal! I look around for the peace-keepers.

No one saw a thing.

But then no one else has eyes like mine.

I can't understand what has just happened. Primrose shouldn't kill you!

As if she read my thoughts, the poisoner looks over my way with such an arrogant smirk I topple backwards.

I may not hear, but I can read lips.

"Your next," Her brilliant red mouth utters.

Her words were meant to scare me, I'm sure, but there is a factor she didn't plan on.

I already know I'm next.

I already know where my final resting place will be.

The cornucopia.

Keeping my cool, I catch a pair of dark brown eyes that are commonly found in our district.

Seth looks across the room at me, a worry line forming in-between his brow.

He's standing with the District 11 tributes.

His fair skinned hands are frozen in mid-gesture as he stares at me.

My heart skips a beat.

I know what they're doing.

They're building an alliance.

My eyes feverishly scan the room looking for more alliances being formed.

Alliances I'm not included in.

The two lovers from district 4 are standing close, heads bent together, with the boy from district 3.

The two males are whispering feverishly, but the lean girl keeps glancing at the career tributes with something like longing in her eyes.

My breath catches in my throat.

The District 13 girl is being whispered to by the giant boy from District 6, who I vaguely recall is named Tasi.

His kind eyes seem urgent, and although the girl seems sweet, she's shaking her head furiously at what ever suggestion is being made.

My eyes fall on the career pack re-grouping near the knife stand and my heart slams against my rib cage. This is the group who wipe out the tributes with actual hearts.

This is the pack that ends hope back home.

The massive, black haired boy leans against the wall; twirling a knife between his fingers.

A blonde, snobby girl stares at her reflection in a spear blade.

The boy, I remember, named Maximus sits off to one side on a weight-lifting bench.

Sweat clings to his fair skin – he rid himself of his training jacket when we entered the room - from when he was lifting weights triple my size.

His eyes look fixedly at a pale, dark blonde-headed District 10 girl, who stands across the room clinging to the arm of the District 12 boy.

She sends lustful, hurried looks back at Maximus.

Startled, if not a bit curious at this display of affection, he lies back down on the bench and stares thoughtfully at the ceiling.

I turn my head towards the District 1 girl who is most defiantly the leader.

Out of all of the villains, she freaks me out the most.

She's running her nails along the edge of a blade, analysing the scene in the training room just like I am.

Abruptly, her eyes flash to mine.

My heart shatters;

My hands fail to find purchase on the ground where I'm lying;

I go cross-eyed;

For I have never seen a look filled with so much loathing and hatred before.

Swallowing my scream is not an option.

It tumbles out of my lips before I can stop it.

**(-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-)**

**-Seth Killian, Male, 15-**

A startling screech ricochets off the steel walls.

My eyes wildly scan the room for it's source.

Annoise lies in a crumpled heap in the middle of the room.

I dash towards her, skidding to a halt when I reach her side.

"Annoise," I shake her trembling shoulders roughly, "Annoise!"

Murmuring fills the room and I can feel all the eyes spotlighting us.

"Step back, boy." A pair of white gloved hands grasp my shoulder.

I obey the peace-keeper, stepping back shakily.

Frothing mouth;

wide, unseeing eyes;

flared nostrils:

The look on her face has etched itself into my brain.

"Seth?" Lyra sneaks up behind me and circles her fingers around my left bicep.

"Come sit down for lunch."

I can't think. I don't understand. I just let her guide me to the cafeteria.

"Whimp," I hear the girl from District 1 mutter.

When I sit down on the cool metal bench, I see a dark skinned boy, sitting at our table, devouring the meal in front of him.

Lyra slides onto the bench across from me.

"This is Granger. He's my partner from District 11." She begins.

I give her a blank nod in response.

"We have a proposition for you Seth."

This time, I don't bother to give any form of answer and Lyra bites her lip, casting her eyes over at Granger. He nods his head ever so slightly before smashing another piece of the meal into his mouth.

"Allies?"

One word.

Only one word.

Yet it all means so much.

I'd have someone to watch my back, someone to gather and hunt with, someone to keep me company.

I'd have someone to keep me alive.

"Yes or no, Seth."

Lyra's lips have set themselves in a tiny smile, and her hazel eyes are patient.

I like her. As soon as she walked into the training room this morning, I instantly liked her. She's strong, nimble and, best of all, hot.

I ruffle her short brown hair and 'Yes' is forming on my lips when I remember that there is a part two in this deal.

Sharply withdrawing my hand, I look Granger Tillman over.

I have to tilt my head to stare into his face because he's much taller then me.

And more muscular too, I note.

His short black hair grows close to his head, accenting his intelligent brown eyes.

I don't even have to ask. I already know this is a guy who is more then capable of thinking.

A part of me, a part that has the urge to be protected, likes him.

But something in his eyes makes the lesser part of me shrivel up and die.

He knows I'm assessing him. That much is obvious in the way his eyes tighten.

I have no idea what emotion flickers across my face, but Granger sees it and nods.

A nod to say he shares my doubts.

Only he's doubting me.

Lyra waves a hand across my face.

"Hello? Killliiaann?" She draws my last name out in a sing-song voice and stares questionably into my eyes.

I can't help it. Her innocence remind me too much of my sister, Clare, and I crumble.

"It's a yes," I reply with a smile dancing upon my lips.

Her whole being lights up like a torch and she reaches over to shake my hand.

She has small hands and I like how they fit, cloaked, inside my own.

"Good," Granger says, abruptly breaking the connection between me and Lyra.

"There is a matter of strategy we must sort out," His dark hands gesture wildly but his face remains serious and calculating.

His chocolate eyes are honest and open though, and I know I've made the right decision.

"Like?" Lyra replies, now all business.

"Well, the plants I've seen at the edible plant station suggest an arena with varied habitats, probably multiple forests that include different sorts of vegetation."

"Woah," I complain, "Too many big words."

Lyra shares my smile, knowing I'm joking, but Granger's face stays set in his mask of authority.

Without even bothering to acknowledge my complaint he turns back to Lyra.

Great. Now he thinks I'm dumb as well as untrustworthy.

"Different habitats could mean a wider breed of creatures," He continues.

"Which could be bad because there would be more predators," Lyra adds, making sure to cast a glance my way, letting me know I'm still part of this discussion.

I step up to that plate, knowing these two will be valuable assets I can't afford to lose, and burst out with: "But it could be good because that would mean there will be more prey..."

"Which would equal more food," Granger finishes.

He turns back to Lyra and starts ranting on about the climate and water supplies and other tributes etc...

But not before he sends me a nod.

And this time, it says he knows he made the right choice;

He knows he made the right choice to become allies with me.

_**A/N: Question time!**_

_Answering these questions is an option. If you want to be able to help out your tribute by sending in a gift then I would advise you to answer._

_If not, don't expect for your tribute to sponsor them._

_If you don't have a tribute and you're reading this, you can still sponsor._

_Just PM me._

_Okay, down to business:_

_What were the 1st words Katniss said in the book 'Hunger Games'?_

_**NOT THE MOVIE!**_

_PM me the answer please :)_

_Not sure when the next chapter '_District 7-We're deadly and you know it' _will be up,because I have speech finals coming up, but it should be up within 2, maybe 3, weeks._

_**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**_

_**Alliances: **_

_**Career pack: Deimo Torn and Aubrey Edge, District 1, And Quilla Perchbridge and Maximus Sharp, District 2.**_

_**Alliance: Titan Rommel, District 3, And Talise Brokelynn and Coral Rubnatsky, District 4.**_

_**Alliance: Tara Able, Disrtict 10, And Darien Hatake, District 12.**_

_**Alliance: Seth Killian, District 6, And Lyra Yew and Granger Tillman, District 11.**_

_**No alliance formed to date:**_

_**Sontly Volt, District 3.**_

_**Grit Gerria And Rosalie Aduriza, District 5.**_

_**Annoise Heflot, District 6.**_

_**Gekikara Castielle and Tasi Merkava, District 7.**_

_**Orchid Haltin and Colt Halter, District 8**_

_**Kasha Barric and Jordyn Flayin, District 9.**_

_**Juan Nicre, District 10.**_

_**Katri Cronan, District 12.**_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE 'HUNGER GAMES' OR MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS.**


	8. District 7, We're deadly and we know it

_**A/N: **Hello tributes!_

_This was deleted but it's back up! I've cancelled the points system form fear of being deleted..._

_Again. :P_

_Here is district 7, Day 2 of Training._

_Enjoy._

_Your Game Maker, Ellie x_

**District 7**

**-.-.-Gekikara Castielle, Female, 16-.-.-**

My heart quakes inside my ribcage.

My palms are slick at my sides.

Every cell in my body is just waiting to propel me over the starting line.

Day two of the training is very different from day one.

For starters, everyone is in little clumps; whispering.

Some clumps have urgent expressions and their hands are flaying around all over the place.

They sort of remind me of the dead squirrels' limbs twitching once my blade pins them to the forest floor.

I sigh happily.

I don't have much to miss of home, seeing as the orphanage was the only home I've ever known, but if I had to choose one thing, then it would be the endless amount of animals just waiting to be killed.

Day two is also different because they're making us run obstacle courses.

Not the kind where you jump over hurdles and climb through tunnels.

No, this is the Hunger Games which means it's got to be exciting for he Capitol of course!

Which means it could be deadly for us.

"Ready to go, Castielle?" The trainer to my left says.

"Sure am, Coach!" I say, bright eyes twinkling.

"On the click then," the trainer says smiling back at me.

I swing my arms and wait to hear the faint click of the stopwatch, telling me it's time to run.

Click.

There it is. There's the sign to start hurling myself down the track.

But I don't run or sprint or throw myself at the course, even though every part of my being is telling me to.

Instead, I jog clumsily down the track pausing when something catches my eye.

The careers smirk. I don't see it, but I can feel their eyes boring into my back.

Good. My plan is working.

I pause and swivel slowly, assessing the track.

What they've laid out is fairly simple.

Or so I thought.

But I saw the recovered Annoise signing to her district partner some of the booby-traps that are lying in wait.

The first hurdle we must jump is to leap from rock to rock.

It would be easy apart from the fact that boiling hot lava bubbles menacingly below.

"_What happens if we fall?" The District 10 boy named Juan asked._

_The trainers replied with:"It's fake. It won't kill you. We'll just fish you out and treat the minor burns." _

Tiptoeing up to the lava pit, I feel the heat wash over me.

Nothing about that lava looks fake.

I'm more then capable, although _they_ don't know it yet, so I leap to the first rock.

It wobbles.

I lose my footing.

Like a lone domino, I fall to the fiery embrace.

I didn't mean to. I meant to actually succeed, instead of looking incapable of this simple task.

Shouts and whoops of laughter fill my ears as I resurface.

"Loser!" Aubrey from District 1 yells.

Loser.

Failure.

Weak.

I take a slow breath and convince myself it's okay .

It only means my plan is working.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-Tasi Merkava, Male, Age 16-.-.-**

I swear she will be nothing but dust when I reach her.

That doesn't stop me from sprinting down the track, only pausing when I reach the edge of the fiery pit.

Gekikara isn't dust, or even scorched.

She's floating on the surface, rotating her arms in lazy circles.

"Oh hay, Tasi," She says as her eyes find mine, "What's up?"

I don't even bother to answer.

Plunging my hand into the pit, flinching when the fake fire touches my skin, I rap one of my arms around her and lift her from the lava.

Droplets of red slide of her and hit the track.

The concrete instantly burns.

She untangles herself from my hold and settles on the track.

"You going to stare Tasi or are you going to complete the track?"

I had completely forgotten about the race but as the words escape her mouth I'm up and running.

I nimbly jump from the rocks, although the lava licks at my feet as I move.

I don't understand how one could fail this task, but that's a passing thought, another streaked colour flashing through my head, so it doesn't really register.

I'm over the other side before I can look back, and wonder if I should have stayed to make sure Gekikara was okay.

My heart strings are tugging on me, urging me to go back and check her over but I force myself to keep moving.

I find it weird. I'm not friends with her, I don't even like her that much but I've always been like that.

I've always wanted to help.

The few metres of tarmac that are void of obstacles don't last long and I jog towards a blue wall.

I halt in my tracks, searching for some clue to how this obstacle works.

For a while, I just stand there, staring, not fully grasping the situation.

Nothing is jumping out at me, or burning me.

Nothing is yelling foul words at me or threatening me.

All it is, is a smooth, metal wall with no way around it.

No way but over.

Hesitantly, I lay one of my worn hands on the steel.

A gasp escapes my lips.

I try to pull my hand back sharply, but it won't move.

The icy metal sticks to my hand, and I can't pull away.

Stuck.

"Look Tasi. Look at what I've got."

My green-flecked eyes swivel crazily, searching for the person who uttered those chilling words, even though I know it wasn't a person that said them.

It was the wall

The words weren't spoken though. No, more like imprinted in my mind.

Branded across my skull.

Pushing against my eyes.

My hearts pounds in my ears as my eyes roam over the wall's surface.

And there, nothing but a memory of something back home, splashed on the wall, sits Hope.

I don't know who designed the painting but they've drawn Hope beautifully.

Her brown eyes stare wide, and open.

Her tawny coat shimmers.

She lifts a paw to her mouth and...

Wait.

_L-Lift_ a paw?

I'm not crazy.

I'm not delusional.

I'm not insane.

Yet my mind screams these accusations at me as I watch Hope bound around in 2D on the wall.

"You miss her don't you? That poor little pup in the forest; no-one to look after her."

As the wall brands me, it's words dripping in venom, I see leafy sprouts shoot up around Hope.

Pine, Maple, trees unknown, spring up around her and she skips and plays.

"Hope!" Someone calls out painstakingly.

It takes a while to realise it was me.

"She looks for you. Cries for you." The wall continues.

The puppy on the wall tilts it's nose into the air.

It's bottom lip trembles and mine follows suit.

"I wonder what will happen when she realises your not coming back."

Then hands.

Hands on the wall.

Bright red with vicious, black nails.

Grabbing at Hope, making her yelp.

I know it's not real, but I tug at the wall, wishing my hand would be freed, wishing I could help her escape.

The image of Hope lets out one last heartbreaking cry, muffled by the hands, and then it stops.

I'm breathing hard.

The hands retreat, and they must have taken Hope with them.

Because the only image left on the wall is a patch of blood amongst the trees.

"Poor little pup," The wall whispers.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N: That was intense! Almost to the point of dark... **Well, Hope you enjoyed! If you did, please review. If you didn't, please review. :D Cyber apple pie will be sent._

_The next chapter 'District_ 8,Practising the art of Winking' _will be up when I feel like it :P_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**DISCLAMIER:**** I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES OR MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS.**


	9. District 8 Practising the art of winking

_**A/N:** Hello Tributes!_

_I am SO sorry this took FOR AGES to be written._

_I was trying to find the character brief for Colt Tane, when I realised he was one of my own characters..._

_So a bit of a blonde moment there._

_And then life got in the way..._

_Exams, and school. Cheerleading and debating._

… _A boyfriend..._

_ANYWAY! Enough about my social life!_

_I really hope you will all continue to read this and review._

_It means a lot._

_Here is _Chapter 8, Practising the art of winking.

_Enjoy._

_Your Game Maker, Ellie x_

_**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**_

**Chapter 8**

**Practising the art of winking**

**District 8**

**-.-.-Orchid Haltin, Female, 12-.-.-**

_26, 27, 28..._

"Orchid! LISTEN! I could be saving your life right now and you just choose..." My mentor waffles on.

I tried to listen at first but I gave up about an hour ago.

"DAVID!"

She's calling out to our other mentor, David Amour.

He's okay, way better then this ostrich-look-a-like that stands in violet heels before me.

_35, 36, 37..._

David almost crawls into the room. "What is it Mareen? I'm quite busy."

Weariness drenches every word.

Colt told me David was staying up late, researching different winning methods.

For Colt of course, not for me.

I take in the bags under his eyes and the way his piano-fingered hand holds his head and I can believe it.

Why else would he lose sleep?

He lives in the victors village so no need to worry over food or a home.

He's liked by everyone in District 8, and it's rumoured he's close with a well known peace keeper from the Capitol.

No need to worry over cold hearts then.

He's single, he doesn't have children.

There's nothing that can be harmed if something goes wrong.

Nothing but himself.

And I can't exactly imagine David, the victor from the 155th hunger games, the victor who won in a record time of 3 days, loosing sleep over a couple of peacekeepers potentially coming after him.

"This child refuses to take in the golden information I'm giving her!"

_55, 56, 57..._

"So stop trying to tell her."

_Silence._

"Wh..What?"

"Just stop trying. If she doesn't want to listen, then she can die."

"Oh no David, we couldn't do-" She tries to say but David interrupts.

"_Shut up, Mareen!_"

Her purple lips sort of twitch and, although I didn't think it was possible, her green eyes get even larger.

David's eyes soften.

"No, Mareen I didn't-"

But she's already running from the room.

David's long fingers run through his pepper and salt coloured hair.

"Well..."

His eyes travel over the bookcases and the desks and finally the heels that sit at my feet.

"You were supposed to be wearing those?"

"Yep," I say to his startled expression.

He hesitates, and rocks forward on his feet, glancing from the skyscraper shoes to my Antarctica eyes.

I'm not sure what he sees in my look.

I've always been sure I mastered the perfect poker face.

But he suddenly strides over and sits down beside me.

"You want to talk?"

I shrug at him because that's all I can do.

"You can talk to me, Orchid."

Talk to him? About what? How I'm going to be forced into an arena to die in 48 hours, 32 minutes, and 16 seconds?

I don't know him; I have no reason to trust him.

Yet, I turn to this large man with the bookworm spectacles, and scan over his young face, the scars making him look 20 years older and I say,

"I'm scared."

"I know Orchid, I know."

"Do you?"

A trail of water leaks from my eye and runs down my cheek.

It runs along my cheekbone and over my lips.

It falls from my chin and hits the ugly, horrible heels that I'll be forced into tonight.

Just like I'll be forced into the games.

Forced into killing.

Forced into death.

"Of course," David says, enveloping my hand in his, "I'm scared too."

He swivels his head and stares broodingly out the window into the city wilderness that grows around us.

I think that's it; All he is going to say on the matter, because he's so quiet for so long. But eventually he turns back to me, eyes like lightning and whispers;

"We all are."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-.-.-Colt Tane, Male, 14-.-.-.-.-**

Hearing him say those words made my insides quiver like some chicken-ass wimp.

He was scared too.

And he wasn't even going into the Arena like we were.

Orchid muttered something I couldn't quite catch, so I pressed my ear harder to the door.

"_...counting takes away the pain..."_

I couldn't help but snort with laughter.

Counting.

What a nerd.

Such a nerdy thing to do.

_Nerdy-nerd-nerd._

I snicker again.

It finally made sense though.

How Orchid would just suddenly blurt out a number and start crying at the dinning table.

Or how she'd whisper numbers to herself while wringing a sorry piece of paper in her hands.

Such a great amount of worrying was held in that child that I could-

Quicker then the speed of light, I catch myself.

I was actually about to say something intellectual.

_'God dammit! Not dumb! Don't say intellectual, you nerd! Say not dumb!' _I consciously correct myself.

It was around age 7 I won my district's junior spelling bee. We don't have them any more, because the meagre prizes and signage cost too much, but when we did...

When we did, I could pretend everything was okay.

I remember the week following, I wore my thread and cardboard winner's badge everywhere I went. And that included school.

There was one kid named Darrel, who's not too bad now I guess, but back then...

I whistle silently to myself, ear still pressed against the door, in remembrance.

He was more then mean.

He was take-down-the-president-and-everyone-in-a-five-mile-radius mean.

_'U tink ur so kewl, dont u colt?'_

That was what the poorly kept note had said, the one Darrel had written and handed me in class two days after the spelling bee.

From the finger print stains on the piece of paper, it was clear that Darrel's hygiene wasn't quite in check. I continued to read.

_'Meet me round da back of da skewl at 3,' _The note finished with a crudely drawn face.

I suppose it was supposed to be angry but I didn't stop to ponder over it.

At that age -that tender age of seven- I didn't realise this note meant an embarrassing pummel that would scar me for the rest of my life.

No, I thought Darrel wanted help with his grammar.

So, when the brass hand bell was swung by the teacher, I scrambled for my thread-bare satchel and walked happily around the classes until I saw the chubby face of Darrel Quartersmith.

And I saw Darrel Quartersmith's fists too.

Every since that fateful day, I've tried to dumb myself down a bit.

Instead of talking about linear equations, I talk about handball.

And instead of the ancient theory of relativity, I talk about girls.

I don't know if I'm happy with this new me but everyone else seems to be.

For the first time the other day, the day I was reaped, I realised people would miss me; this simpler me.

I watched my mother scream out my name and my father solemnly hold her back.

My friends Billy and Clyde stared sadly at their feet.

I swear I saw a tear roll down Clyde's face.

And Jessica Marshall-The sweet brown-eyed girl who liked to think about linear equations and the ancient theory of relativity like the old me-I saw her give me a bitter-sweet wave goodbye as her mob of friends hugged her frail body.

Although this proof of love made me feel great-great to a point where I was light and dizzy-I felt a pang of sugary jealousy in that moment.

How was Jessica Marshall able to think and be smart and '_intellectual' _yet I wasn't?

How could she do all that and yet she had so many friends that loved her.

I didn't understand and when the peacekeepers dragged me of stage I was in a daze.

All this deep thinking about the old me and _stuff_ had made me unaware of the halt in the talking emitting from the room I was listening in on.

I also didn't notice the tell-tale creak of floorboards announcing someone was walking towards the door.

"What the-"

I land on the floor with a heavy thump.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

"Were you eavesdropping on us, Colt?" Orchid enquires in an oddly pitched voice.

Scrambling up from the ground, dusting myself off, I reply "Don't be silly, you egg. Why would I want to listen to your whiny little voice?"

The only sound that follows is the distant rumble of partying Capitol folk.

David catches my eye.

I can't help but flinch at the frosty mask he's wearing.

"So I see you've decided to take the bully angle then?"

His cold words freeze me.

"Who said I decided on that?"

"No one had to, Colt,"

If possible his eyes grew even colder,

"You already play the part perfectly."

Hearing those words, I start to cry.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N: **Yay! I like this chapter to be honest, even though it's not my best. What do you think? If you are reading, please leave a review so I know if I should even continue to write this or not. :P_

_No reviews/answers=I'll stop because there really wouldn't be a point._

_Again, sorry for the wait! Next chapter, '_District 9: Good-evening people of Hell'_ will be up soon!_


	10. District 9, Evening people of hell!

_**A/N:** Hello Tributes!_

_I've been waiting to write this chapter for SO long! :D_

_This is chapter 9, '_District 9, Evening people of hell!'

_Hope you enjoy!_

_Your Gamemaker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Chapter 9**

**District 9**

**Evening people of hell!**

**-.-.-.-.-Kasha Barric, Female, 14-.-.-.-.-**

"...Anything you want to say to the other tributes?"

I watch Deimo Torn's face carefully as she replies to the interviewer's question.

"Yes," She replies coldly. She turns her head slightly to where we're waiting in the wings. The stylists have pulled her hair sharply off her face and at this angle, with the lights casting shadows off her acute cheekbones, she looks monstrous.

"I'm a killer," She purrs softly, "Remember that."

A shiver runs down my spine.

Griffith Xavier clears his throat and lets out a laugh.

"Well, I know I wouldn't want to mess with you! I'm afraid we're out of time folks! Give it up for the District 1 female, Demio Torn!"

The applause that follows could have brought a district down.

Demio's district partner Aubrey plays pretty much the same angle; cold-hearted and ruthless with a touch of sexy.

Only, I'm not sure Demio was playing.

Aubrey answers smoothly, earning himself a few unearned wolf-whistles here and there, but when Griffith asks if Aubrey has a girl back home he chokes up.

Seeing this, Griffith's bleached eyebrows form high peaks on his forehead.

"A career has a lover? Well, ladies and gentleman, there _is _a first time for everything!"

Aubrey turns stony. "Don't be silly, Griffith. I don't have time for stupid things like love." He turns his head towards the audience. "Unless you call love sex..." He trails off suggestively.

Someone swoons.

I roll my eyes. The careers are becoming more and more like sex objects these days.

**-.-.-.-.-**

Quilla's on stage before I can straighten my skirt.

Her strapless blue and bedazzled dress glitters in the spotlight.

"_She would look better in red," _flutters through my head.

"You look wonderful this evening, Quilla." Griffith smiles and gestures to her seat.

"I know," Quilla replies.

Griffith starts to chuckle before realizing she's not joking.

Shuffling his cue cards, he launches quickly into her interview.

**-.-.-.-.-**

Maximus was exactly what I expected.

Another quiet and cold career.

I sigh, glancing down at my already chipped nails.

_Dammit._

My prep team won't be happy.

Sontly Volt looks pale as she shuffles onto the stage after Maximus.

Peering closer at her ghostly complexion, I notice her frail hands are grasping frantically at her stomach.

She looks like she's going to be sick.

This theory is proved correct as she hurls all over Griffith's polished shoes.

The cleaners leave the stage and Titan Rommel sluggishly waltzes onto it.

His back is much straighter then I thought It would be.

His chin is higher too.

I thought he'd have given up on survival, what with his frail appearance and stamina.

But as he shakes the interviewers hand, I swear I glimpse a smug smile hiding on his lips.

He sits down opposite Griffith; all shreds of emotion now gone.

Giving Titan the once-over, Griffith asks: "So Titan, How's the Capitol treating you?"

"Just fine thanks."

"Missing home?"

"I can't afford too. I have to keep my mind on the Games. Distractions like family will get in the way of that."

I hang my head, and start to pick at the beads sown to my yellow dress.

Titan Rommel doesn't have a lot of brawn but wit is a valuable thing in the Arena. And I need to take advantage of every valuable thing I can get my hands on.

I remember seeing him on the first training day whispering behind his hands to District 4.

He already has allies.

Maybe it wouldn't be best to intrude on their alliance...

Startled by the sudden applause, I leap to my feet and watch Titan start to walk down the corridor. He'll be walking past me any moment.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my dress.

_'Now or never, Kasha.'_

"Hay," I take a clumsy step forward and grasp Titan's upper arm.

It's almost no surprise to me when I find I can circle my entire hand around his bicep.

"Yes?" He replies, turning to face me.

"Umh," I hesitate.

Titan's entire lack of brawn is suddenly extremely apparent in such close quarters. The drumming of my heart intensifies as I realize that in the Arena, it will eventually come down to who has the most muscle-power.

_Ba-boom-ba-boom-ba-boom._

But his smarts could mean the difference between living and dying for me, and having an ally, almost any ally, would be an asset.

_Ba-BOOM-ba-BOOM-ba-BOOM._

Also, when I have to eventually get rid of him, his lack of muscle might make it an easier task.

And surely, this creature wouldn't be one to slit my throat while I'm away in my dreams.

_BA-BOOM-BA-BOOM-BA-BOOM!_

"Kasha? I have to sit down!"

He snakes his arm out of my grip and takes a step towards his seat.

And I let him.

**-.-.-.-Jordyn Flayin, Male, 13-.-.-.-**

Watching Talise and Coral woo the crowd had made me sick.

All I heard was laughter and... and giggling!

I hadn't listened to much of their interviews; I was too busy trying to drown out the sickly sweet sounds they were emitting.

During one point in Talise's interview, the laughter died down.

I let my hands relax from protecting my ears for a minute.

That's when I heard her say: "My father is not a monster... his actions are just monstrous."

I don't know what that was about because Griffith starting making jokes again and I ended up blocking my ears for the rest of District 4's interviews.

Grit had made my teeth grind together.

"Missing anyone?" Griffith had asked.

"Yeah, my boys back home."

"Children?" Griffith asked shocked.

"No, no, my mates. We put in hard labour at the Geothermal plant."

"I'm just _sure_ you do." I had heard Rosalie hiss.

"I'm afraid we're out of time!" And that was the end of Grit's interview.

He said goodbye and lazily strolled down the steps, bumping into Rosalie.

"Oh sor-" He started, then he took a closer look and realised it was his district partner, Rosalie.

"Oh, it's just you."

I chuckled to myself in the dark.

I was amazed at how quickly Rosalie had composed herself when I saw her emerge onto stage.

No longer did she look like some raging dragon, but more like a graceful gazelle.

Man, those things can pack a punch.

And pack a punch she did.

She had the audience eating from the palm of her hand the moment she sat down.

Annoise, the deaf girl who was known amongst the tributes for her absurd break down on the first training day, had someone sign what Griffith was saying to her.

"Do you think being deaf is a disadvantage going into the Arena?"

Annoise watched closely at her signer's hands, decrypting their message.

She began to shake her head furiously.

"Of course not," She began in a monotone voice. "Being deaf means that all my other senses are 100 times stronger. That means I can see and hear better then all the other competitors."

Seth should've gone on stage wearing a clowns nose.

I had to cover my ears to drown out all the laughter.

"..What were your thoughts on being reaped?"

The words snaked through my fingers into my ears.

"Well," Seth laughed. "When life hands you lemons, make a gin and tonic."

The place erupted into laughter even though I'd bet my District that over half of them didn't know what he was talking about.

The next district was such a contrast that I found myself listening.

Gekikara bounced around in her cutesy violet dress answering Griffith's questions at lightning speed.

"So Gekikara, what do you think your chances of winning are?"

"I'm gonna freaking die!" She burst out.

The smile plastered to her face was unnerving me.

Tasi, the complete opposite to Gekikara, sat calmly opposite to Griffith.

The whole interview was very calm actually, so calm I must have fallen into a daydream.

It was only till he lumbered past me that I woke up to my senses.

I watched him pause just to the left of me, where my district partner, Kasha, sat.

"...I know what you're thinking. I'm thinking that too."

He stuck out a bear-like claw to Kasha.

Her startled green eyes peered into the pair that were towering above her.

She took his hand and shook it.

I pondered over that for a moment. Perhaps it was time I got an Ally. Couldn't hurt if I was going to survive this thing.

I'd completely missed Orchid's interview and and as she teetered on her heels towards me I decided to make a lunge for her.

"Allies?" Was all I whispered into her ear.

"Okay." She whispered back loudly.

It probably wasn't the smartest idea, becoming allies with someone so young and so powerless but I was ally hungry.

The applause from the stage switched a flick in my brain and I released Orchid, already forgetting about my new ally.

But I needn't have been so keen to see the next interview.

"Do you think you'll win these Games, Colt?"

"Nah, yeah, definitely!"

Just being in the same room as Colt made me feel smarter.

And now it's almost my turn.

Kasha is on stage right now letting the crowd fall in love with her.

I say letting, because Kasha seemed to be making very little effort at all in wooing her audience yet wooed they were.

She isn't lolly barf sweet, either, like district 4 had been.

She's just genuinely... loveable.

"Is there anything you want to say to your potential sponsors, Kasha?" Griffith asks, the merriment making his eyes twinkle.

"Yes, I'd like to let them know that the best things can come in the smallest of packages," She says, gesturing at herself.

"I'm sure they do," Griffith's warm response ending the interview.

Knees knocking together, I gulp down the rest of my thoughts and shuffle towards the spotlight.

**-.-.-.-.-Jane Hawthrope, Female, 49, Main sponsor -.-.-.-.-**

I glance back at the notes I made on Districts 10, 11 and 12.

Narrowing down one tribute to sponsor was getting tricky.

And I couldn't pick just any tribute.

I _had_ to pick the winning tribute.

Tara from 10 was pretty enough, perhaps a bit too cocky.

I start to rule her name off but stop. I draw a lazy circle around her name.

I'd wait and see what her training score told me.

Juan made no impact at all. I cross his name off with a sharp flick of the wrist.

Lyra was nice, friendly and I liked that determined twinkle in her eye...

But that wasn't going to win her a game based on death.

Her name is crossed off too.

Granger Tillman...

I slowly bring the pen to my mouth in thought.

He looked strong enough, could probably take down a few of the weaker careers.

He too had Lyra's twinkle.

The boy had a brain.

He also had guts.

And I admired that.

I put him on my 'Maybe' list.

Katri Conran was too shy for my liking.

And too _young._

No 13 year old was going to win this thing.

Katri is crossed off too.

Last of all Darien.

This was another one to think about.

I glance back at my notes.

They tell me he'd be perfect.

My gut tells me a different story.

Scribbling furiously in my notebook, a tap on the microphone forces my eyes to snap up to the stage mid-sentence.

President Orcal stood holding the box containing the notes on this years Quarter Quell.

"Ladies and Gentleman, It'd be my pleasure to announce this years quarter Quell."

I can't help but notice the quality of his tux.

Such flawless craftsmanship!

I wonder how much it cost...

"Now, I know some of you were disappointed at the lack of opening ceremonies. I'm not sure if our tributes noticed."

I certainly did. I couldn't believe my ears when I was told at a house-warming party the other week!

But what disconcerted me most was I couldn't find a reason for there not to be one.

"This was because the iron particles in the stadium would short-circuit the tributes."

A few gasps and mummers sing out from the crowd.

"Short-circuit? How on earth could this make them short-circuit? Can humans even short-circuit?" Griffith asks in a composed fluster.

"Not ordinary humans, no."

More mummers amounted.

President Orcal starts a rhythmic walk across the stage.

"See, while the tributes were on the train ride, we spiked their food and drink."

A flurry of gasps chorus to my left.

I scribble furiously into my notebook.

"What with?" Griffith asks, his fluster no longer composed.

"Body and mind controlling drugs." At Griffith's astounded facials, Orcal started to explain.

"Hidden around the Arena is a controller to represent each tribute. On each controller is 4 buttons labelled: traitor, killer, lover, follower."

I almost suffocate in the silence that follows.

"And they mean?" Griffith whispers in awe.

"Well," Orcal claps this hands together, "That's for the tributes to find out for the tributes can find these and use these devices. They may find their own, or they may find someone else's. They may never find a controller, or they may find all of them. I don't know."

The whispering in the room escalates quickly to a deafening roar.

I sit there stunned.

This is going to make my job _a lot_ harder.

"What I do know, is that once one of the buttons-only one can be pushed-is pressed, the person the controller belongs to will have no option but to obey."

Griffith clears his throat. "And what is the reason behind the Quarter Quell?"

"The reason?" Orcal casts his eyes to the wings then to the cameras that follow his every movement.

"Once upon a time, the Districts did not obey the Capitol. They obeyed only themselves!"

His voice rings true and clear through the now silent hall.

"Now, they will have no choice but to obey each other." He pauses, searching the crowd's surprised eyes. "And who controls the Hunger Games that the tributes are in?"

He looks down at the box in his hands and smiles.

"The Capitol." He whispers.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N:** I never thought this would be so long! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to those who review! You guys are awesome :)_

_**P.S **There's a poll on my profile asking who should win. Yes, you can vote for your own. :P_


	11. District 10, Roll the dice

_**A/N: **Hello tributes!_

_Enjoy._

_Your Gamemaker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Chapter 10**

**District 10, Roll the dice**

**-.-.-.-.-Tara Able, Female, 15-.-.-.-.-**

Coursing through my veins is a drug that can control me.

Force me into strange actions.

Leave me defenceless...

I've never been defenceless.

Being daughter of District 10's mayor, I was always assured food and clean water.

A bed and a house.

A family to wake up to.

A group of people I could control.

And the protection of the peacekeepers.

I hadn't realised how cushioned my life had been until yesterday night.

I mean, even that morning I had still been in that stupid daydream; believing I wouldn't come to any harm.

Because I'm the mayor's daughter.

And harm doesn't just happened to people like me.

I glance around the small, sedated lounge.

My eyes flicker over the prep teams and then to my escort.

Nothing but angles in a hard wooden chair, Dolyce's eyes haven't left the TV screen in half an hour.

A shiver shakes my body.

I can see she's not looking at me but I still feel like her eyes are trained on my face.

Banishing the thought, my blue eyes flutter across to Juan, my District partner.

He too is looking down at his hands, like I was only a minute before.

They're big hands, too big for his small body.

I don't know why that was so important to me.

Maybe I just needed to distract myself from the numbers that would be appearing on the screen.

My eyes trail over the rest of him, noting how the rest of his seems to be mismatched too.

I stop looking when I see the scar.

Pulling my eyes back to my knuckles, I'm silently praying he didn't see me.

But he did.

I can feel his stare piercing my lily-white skin.

I know I should feel ashamed but all I can think about is that scar.

And not _a _scar.

_The _scar.

The scar of the century, I'd bet; all pink skin and worn blisters.

A burn mark perhaps.

A sort of chafing?

Or maybe something else entirely...

The thought has my stomach doing acrobatics.

So absorbed in 'the' scar that I don't notice the pre-game waffle has finished and the first Districts are receiving their marks.

It's not till District 4 that I zone back, training my eyes back on the screen.

It's a nice screen. Flat and sharp.

Just like a good man should be.

But here I am, getting distracted again!

I peer at the people flashing up on the screen and listen intently to the sounds.

"Talise from District 4 getting a good number with 10."

I'm not surprised really. Teaming up with the brainiac from 3 has already proven she's not completely brain dead.

I glance quickly back at Juan, who's staring at me disapprovingly.

I sigh softly.

Boy must be a mind-reader.

I don't know what he has to disprove but I know I'm not being honest.

Talise is super sweet and kind AND she has a hot boyfriend.

I examine my cuticles hard. If I'm going to be completely honest here, which, let's be honest, is super hard and something I hate doing, I'm probably just...

Just jealous.

Oh my-

"What is happening to me!"

I'm never jealous! Why would I be? I'm amazing and _damn_ sexy.

And of a pathetic girl from 4!

The world ought to be burning.

In my horror, I'd accidentally shouted the words out loud.

The preppers-or what ever you call them-stare wide-mouthed at my out burst.

Juan gives me the once over, bemused.

Doylce's eyes still haven't moved.

"Well shut your mouths, then," I'm so livid and their reactions I can feel steam coming from my nostrils "You don't want to be catching any flies like that."

The prep team's jaws snap shut with a hard crunch.

Straightening my skirt, I realize I leapt to my feet at some point.

I perch back down on the sofa, flick back my hair-a signature move-and try to soften my facials.

I mean, anger creates lines and that's something that I just can't afford if I'm going to be in the spotlight so much once I win.

Once my attention is fixed back on the flat screen, I watch Grit from District 5 receive a 6.

Predictable.

This was just like watching tacky cat fights at school where the two girls always broke down in tears, clinging to each other saying: "You know I never meant to sleep with your boyfriend!"

"I know. You're my best friend Kathy, I love you!"

"I totally love you too!"

It was all totally, 100% predictable.

The deaf girl from 6 scored a 4 (yawn).

Seth scored a 5 (more yawning).

Gekikara scored a 1 (boring-

Wait.

Hold up!

I look across to see if anyone else shares my puzzlement and find Juan scratching a zit on his chin, brows knitted together in confusion too.

This did _so_ not make sense.

I swear, my manicured nails and I are getting to the bottom of this.

But I didn't have time to properly think it through because Tasi was flashing up bearing a 6 and

Orchid a sad 4.

I started to pick at my nails again-damn, they were cracked-until I heard the announcer confirm Kasha's solid 8 and Jordyn's average 5.

My District was up and I saw my face appear behind Griffith and his tasteful choice of a suit.

Seriously, I had to get in touch with his tailor.

I cross by fingers behind my back, afraid Juan would see me vulnerable in hope.

"...And now Tara Able, District 10."

"She was a feisty thing, wasn't she?" Griffith's co-host laughs.

"She sure was Burton. Let's see if the Gamemakers thought so to..."

They turn around to face the screen.

My Adam's apple bobs up and down as I gulp.

A number flashes up onto the screen.

A number that is surely going to end my life...

Or save it.

I peer closer and realise it's a 7, Not the 2 I first believed it was.

I sniff back the tears I hadn't realized I'd been holding and sigh with relief.

_'Bring it on, Tributes,' _I think to myself, regaining my so-called, 'cocky' composure.

_'Let's see what you've got.'_

**-.-.-.-Juan Nicre, Male, 14-.-.-.-**

I've always been a 'normal' boy from a 'normal' family who lived in a 'normal' house.

I achieved 'average' grades and my friends were all 'average' too.

I was fine with this sort of lifestyle until around 6 months ago.

Something began to grow inside me then.

Something fiery and disruptive.

I tried to ignore it.

I must have had 'average' will-power too because before long I was running round stealing eggs and cussing at police officers.

I had gotten sick of 'normal'.

I wanted to _live._

And that desire is what dumped me here; sitting across the room from the most arrogant and self-centred girl in all of District 10.

I watch her face as she she's a vibrant blue 7 flash up onto the screen.

A wash of relief flushes her face quickly followed by proud smirk.

I shake my head in disgust.

Proud?

Of what?

Your potential ability to kill someone?

"Juan Flayin up next."

I snap my head back towards the screen.

A bright 5 appears next to my mug-like shot.

I shrug my shoulders.

It was what I expected.

An average number for an average boy.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Training Scores**

**District 1: **Demio Torn-11

Aubrey Edge-9

**District 2:** Quilla Perchbridge-10

Maximus Sharp-10

**District 3:** Sontly Volt-2

Titan Rommel-7

**District 4:** Talise Brokelynn-9

Coral Rubnatsky-10

**District 5:** Rosalie Aduriza-8

Grit Gerria-6

**District 6:** Annoise Heflot-4

Seth Killian-5

**District 7:** Gekikara Castielle-1

Tasi Merkava-6

**District 8:** Orchid Haltin-4

Colt Tane-6

**District 9:** Kasha Barric-8

Jordyn Falyin-5

**District 10:** Tara Able-7

Juan Nicre-3

**District 11:** Lyra Yew-8

Granger Tillman-9

**District 12:** Katri Cronan-7

Darien Hatake-8

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Allies**

**Career pack:** Deimo Torn and Aubrey Edge, District 1, And Quilla Perchbridge and Maximus Sharp, District 2.

**Alliance:** Titan Rommel, District 3, And Talise Brokelynn and Coral Rubnatsky, District 4.

Alliance: Tara Able, Disrtict 10, And Darien Hatake, District 12.

**Alliance:** Seth Killian, District 6, And Lyra Yew and Granger Tillman, District 11.

**Alliance: **Tasi Merkava, Distirct 7, and Kasha Barric, District 9.

**Alliance:** Jordyn Flayin, District 9, and Orchid Haltin, District 8.

**No alliance formed to date:**

Sontly Volt, District 3.

Grit Gerria And Rosalie Aduriza, District 5.

Annoise Heflot, District 6.

Gekikara Castielle, District 7.

Colt Halter, District 8

Juan Nicre, District 10.

Katri Cronan, District 12.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N:** Yes, the 2nd part is ludicrously short. I still hoped you enjoyed. :)_

_PLEASE (!) **leave reviews** and answer **who your favourite tribute is so far?**_

_You have no idea HOW ridiculously happy I get when I see one. :)_

_**Cyber apple pie will be sent. ;)**_

_Thanks to **Lea Marie Zeier** and **Rikachan101** for their continued support._

_Love you guys :)_

_**P.S.** There is a **poll** on my profile asking **who you think should win**. It till stay there till **top 8** to **help me decide who to knock off.** You can vote up to **3 times** and you can v**ote for your own **:)_

_**P.P.S. **DISCLAMIER: I own nothing. If I did I would be stinking rich and be travelling the world right now and investing in cancer research..._

_**P.P.P.S.** … Sorry, I just wanted to do a P.P.P.S..._


	12. District 11, Green Fingers

_**A/N:** Yello!_

_Chapter 11, coming right up._

_Your Gamemaker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**District 11**

**Chapter 11- Green Fingers**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-Lyra Yew, Female, Aged 17-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

I couldn't sleep.

Not with all of the noise down below.

Party-goers, just little ants from this distance, scream and yell.

A chant perhaps.

You can make out names sometimes.

A few hours ago there was a chorus of "Quilla! Quilla! Quilla!"

I smile slightly, looking down at my hands.

Bet that would have got on Demio's nerves.

It's quite childish actually, the way Demio craves power.

Tomorrow, we're going in.

Twenty-three of us aren't coming out.

And all Demio can worry about is how many people know her name, how many people crave her victory.

How many people long for her to kill.

That's if you can really call the Capitol citizens 'people'.

I snort, pacing back along the roof.

She's not the worst of it though.

That girl from district 5...

Oh! What's her name?

She is not something I'd want to mess with...

There is just something about her serpent-like eyes.

Plus, I saw what happened that first training day.

I know she spiked the trainer leaving poor Annoise withering on the floor.

And what about Aubrey?

Panem forbid, he _was_ a hunk!

Dangerous though.

Oh so very dangerous...

I stop moving in the middle of the roof top, arching my head back to the sky.

Not a star in sight.

Not like at home, where some of the stars like to stay in the sky even during the sun's rein.

A lot of the things here are opposite to home.

The carpet for example.

Plush and long here, richly dyed in all shades possible.

Kind of stupid actually.

A perfect habitat for all sorts of unwanted insects, say fleas.

We were smart, back in 11.

We knew fancy carpet would be a health hazard, almost as dicey as uncared-for trees.

Honestly, the fruit flies that would swarm there in the summer...

The fact that we didn't have the money for fancy carpets was beyond the point.

We knew what we were doing.

We had our heads screwed on straight.

The slap of bare feet on concrete awakes me from my thoughts.

I know who it will be but I still spin around, my heart silently racing.

Maybe my body already believes it is in the games.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" Granger's hands motion lazily to the blank sky above us."So many stars."

"I know," I reply. "It's overwhelming."

He permits himself a rare smile which makes my grin grow wider.

Granger is one of the only tributes I haven't figured out.

At the training days, he barely spoke a word.

Perhaps the odd 'yes' or 'no' but otherwise...

Otherwise he was completely silent.

I always felt like he had locked his lips once, and thrown away the key.

It was a shame really, because when he did speak the words that flowed out of his mouth were pure genius.

Becoming allies with Granger instantly made me feel safer.

Which is stupid, I know.

You honestly don't need to tell me that.

But I can't see Granger to be one to stab me in the back while I'm sleeping.

Those brown, hard-working hands of his wouldn't permit it.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

He shakes his head, the whites of his eyes shining.

"Neither could I. All I can think about is tomorrow. I mean, I could be dead in less then 24 hours!" Throwing my hands up in the air, I sulk over to a wooden bench and flop down on it.

"And I can't control any of it! Do you know how frustrating that is?!"

Granger doesn't reply; just calmly sits down beside me.

We both stare out towards the city lights.

They twinkle on the tops of towers; mostly white, but a few strange colours.

A blue light brightens a sculpture and a orangy-pink one sits on the horizon.

They will have to substitute for stars tonight.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-.-Granger Tillman, Male, 17-.-.-.-.-**

"Aren't you scared, Granger?" She asks me.

I pause, looking down at her tiny frame.

Her wide, hazel eyes spotlight me asking a question of their own.

"Are you really afraid for yourself, Lyra?"

"What? Of course I-"

"No, no," I make a hushing gesture with my fingers."Calm yourself, little one."

"Little one?!"

Oops. Now I've gone and done it.

"I'm as old as you! Just because I'm short!"

I'm surprised how loud her feet sound as she stomps over to the greenhouse.

Girls and their mood swings.

That's not entirely fair, however. I've always known she was touchy when it came to size.

Ever since that Jerry character in Primary laughed as she fell to the ground in a game of pig-skin ball.

She was so slight, so little, the wind could have knocked her over then.

"_Ha! Your so weak and **little** the wind knocked you over!" Jerry had taunted._

"_I am not weak!" Lyra yelled back but no one could hear her over the laughter._

I was constantly amazed how much passion can be trapped in such a small person_._

To be honest, I still am.

Later that day, 12 years back, I heard someone sobbing in the girl's bathroom.

I could only assume it was Lyra.

I stand in the doorway of the Greenhouse, head bent awkwardly to avoid smacking the roof.

I had, of course, subconsciously followed Lyra here.

I gaze at her now, deep in thought.

It is obvious she had changed herself to appear stronger.

Boyish, short hair which showed off her high cheek bones.

Legs almost bulging with muscle.

I had heard these efforts. I could always pick up the distinct thumps of blades hitting straw dummies.

Dummies Lyra had made.

Weapons Lyra had made.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

I barely caught the words she had whispered, so lost in my mind.

"Sure."

Yellow petals fall to the floor as she pulls a rose apart.

"You know Green fingers?"

How could I not?

Green Fingers was District 11's most notorious thief.

He -I assume the thief was a he- had stolen everything from apples to paintings the size of doors.

There was a myth circulating that Green Fingers had even stolen the Mayor's daughter's favourite teddy bear.

"Well," She continued, picking away at the rose, "I'm..."

"You're...?" I press, walking closer unconsciously.

She turns around, her eyes brighter then the moonlight.

"I'm Green Fingers. That was all me."

I don't reply, too startled to voice anything.

"I had to provide for my family. Surely, you understand that?"

I tried to see the desperate face of Lyra, my friend and ally, but all I saw was my adopted mother's pearl necklace.

The necklace I had gifted to the orphanage which would pay for all their meals through winter.

The necklace that Green Fingers had then stolen.

My fingers clasped around a dusky-pink rose.

Watching in fascination as the thorns created spots of blood on my hands, I heard Lyra say: "Please Granger, say something."

Hesitating, I reply "There's nothing left to say," before leaving Lyra alone in the greenhouse.

"Lyra Yew," I mutter to myself, wrenching the rooftop door open.

"An ally, but no longer a friend."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Allies**

**Career pack:** Deimo Torn and Aubrey Edge, District 1, And Quilla Perchbridge and Maximus Sharp, District 2.

**Alliance:** Titan Rommel, District 3, And Talise Brokelynn and Coral Rubnatsky, District 4.

**Alliance: **Tara Able, Disrtict 10, And Darien Hatake, District 12.

**Alliance:** Seth Killian, District 6, And Lyra Yew and Granger Tillman, District 11.

**Alliance: **Tasi Merkava, Distirct 7, and Kasha Barric, District 9.

**Alliance:** Jordyn Flayin, District 9, and Orchid Haltin, District 8.

**No alliance formed to date:**

Sontly Volt, District 3.

Grit Gerria And Rosalie Aduriza, District 5.

Annoise Heflot, District 6.

Gekikara Castielle, District 7.

Colt Halter, District 8

Juan Nicre, District 10.

Katri Cronan, District 12.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N: **One more chapter, ladies and gentleman!_

_One more chapter till the games!_

_I am so, so thankful to those who review :)_

_Cyber chocolate cookies sent ;)_

_The poll is still open! I'm actually quite surprised by the votes..._

_I'd vote if I were you. Your favourite tributes hang in the balance..._

_Next chapter: _**Chapter 12:****Final countdown **_up real soon :)_


	13. Chapter 12, Final Countdown

_**A/N:** Yo_

_Chapter 12 is here! The last and final chapter before (**drum roll please!)**_

_**The Hunger Games!**_

_Enjoy :)_

_Your Game Maker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Chapter 12**

**District 12- Final countdown**

**-.-.-.-.-Katri Cronan, Female, 13-.-.-.-.-**

I normally don't say much.

But today, I didn't say a thing.

Not even when I was asked direct questions.

Not even when I was asked direct questions from my _mentors._

They have such amazing wisdom and yet I ignored every attempt from them to rain life-saving tips upon me.

They left me a while ago to find Darien, knowing he'd be more co-operative.

And more likely to win.

When people look at me, all they see is a sorry-for-herself kid.

Not a fighter who could take this thing out.

Looking in the mirror, I search for a warrior.

All I see is a child.

My elbows and collarbone are sharp enough to cut steak.

I brush my orange ringlets in front of my collarbone and cross my arms behind my back, trying to disguise how thin I am.

It's no use. I can still see my ribs poking through my jacket.

I turn away in disgust.

I've done so much worrying I haven't had time to eat.

Four years ago, I was as stick thin as I am now.

That was after Eddy died.

I guess it's true. Time does repeat it's self.

I sit down on the edge of the bed pulling my socks on.

They're warm, no holes for my toes to wriggle through.

'It was such a brutal death too,' I think crossing my arms over my chest.

Not even the harshest and cruellest of men deserve to die the way Eddy did.

And Eddy was one of the kindest, bravest boys I've ever met.

I was walking home, having bought a few sacred loaves of bread from the bakery when I saw the mob of people.

And heard the screams.

Curious as ever, I slithered through the crowd of grey, doleful faces.

In some ways I wish I hadn't.

A peace-keeper, named Harlington I think, had his had in the air.

He towered over a pool of some strange red liquid.

It was only till I heard the sickening smack that I realised in his hand Harlington held a whip.

And in the pool of blood was sweet Eddy; back bare, whimpering softly.

I didn't particularly think, just rushed in screaming for him to stop.

I underestimated Harlington and his whip that day.

I was sure as soon as he saw me, a darling nine-year-old so distraught, he would stop.

Oh, was I wrong.

Harlington turned on me, fire raging in his eyes.

Whip after whip I took, my tears mixing with the blood I was almost drowning in.

I lay there, my body burning, till the inky black swallowed me whole.

Thankfully, my father found me once the crowd had dispersed and treated me.

I woke a week later to see the familiar lines of my father's hands treating my bandages.

I also woke to hear the news that Eddy was gone.

Other people would have reacted differently.

Some would have been uncontrollably angry; swearing to find Harlington and make him pay for the life he took.

Others would have cried till their home flooded.

I did neither.

My bones stuck out because I refused to eat.

My lips cracked because I never spoke; so scared was I that I would be hurt again.

I even feared my nightmares would bring the house down.

In the end it was a alluring hallucination that partially snapped me out of it.

It was a cold winter's day, and I sat watching the leaves dancing around an old oak tree Eddy and I used to climb together.

My eyelids were drooping, my teeth chattering.

I vaguely remember I was freezing and I tried to pull my coat around me tighter.

What happened next made everything else that happened that day pale in comparison.

Eddy was there.

Sitting on the lowest branch in the oak, laughing as he picked nuts from it.

It was like he was made for it really, the way he suddenly crouched, and swung to another branch.

I realised he was throwing the nuts at someone and I slowly swung my head to see who it was.

It was myself of course.

Younger, healthier, brighter.

"_Eddy! Stop throwing things at me!"_ Ducking, The younger me skittered and hopped to the base of the tree.

"_Come one, Katri! Climb up! Be my monkey friend!" _A monkey screech tumbled over Eddy's lips, making the younger version of me erupt into hiccuping laughs.

Once the child's play calmed down, I saw myself call back _"I can't, Eddy. I'm scared."_

"_How do you know you won't like being a monkey? This tree is a perfect place for monkeys, you know."_

"_It's too high, Eddy!"_

"_Katri," _He said sternly, swinging from the branches and landing lithely beside the younger me.

"_I promise to catch you if you fall."_

Right on queue, exactly as I remember it, I erupted into girlish giggles, deciding to risk it.

I know now that the reason Eddy meant so much was that he was the person who walked into my life, just as everyone walked out.

"Katri?" My mentor knocks through the door, pulling my from the depths of my daydreams.

"It's time to go."

Pulling on my boots, a shy smile playing on my face, I skitter and hop to the door.

Almost like I did all those years ago.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-.-Darien Hatake, Male, 18-.-.-.-.-**

Katri almost takes me out, the way she bounds into the elevator.

"Woah, take it easy there, cupcake."

She smiles shyly, tucking her strawberry blonde hair behind her ears.

I chuckle softly as my mentor hits the ground floor button.

I watch the numbers light up then darken as we descend.

We hit the floor without being interrupted by other tributes.

"District 12. Last, as per usual," I think to myself as we exit the elevator, heading for the trains.

Yes, trains, because apparently helicopters are too main stream.

Blacked-out windows re quite disconcerting when your chugging along in a train such as this.

These trains, unlike the trains we came to the Capitol on, are plain and basic.

Hard and intimidating.

"The best advice I can give you is to get in there, throw a few couple punches and grab the closest thing. Then you sprint. And you don't look back." Tim, one of my mentors, tells me.

"Is that really smart?" Jolie, my other mentor, interjects.

"Sure it is!"

"I dunno, Tim. Some of those careers are gonna be pretty nasty..."

My mentors' constant quarrelling is too much.

They both won in contrasting circumstances. That's the difference.

Tim won on brute-force, killing everyone on sight.

Jolie won with logic, mulling over every little thing.

I stretch, my fingertips brushing the ceiling and saunter over to Katri.

As I sit down she freezes and stops biting her fingernails.

Poor Katri.

Our mentors gave up on her a few days back and since then, haven't given her a second thought.

"Hi," I say.

She looks like a dear caught in the torchlight.

I gesture to her bitten fingers, that lie stiffly on her lap.

"Are you nervous?"

She doesn't reply, just sits there bug-eyed.

"Because I am. If I die, I have no idea who will look after my family."

The train rattles and I feel it's speed decreasing.

That small bump was enough to plunge me into silence too.

The two of us, such contrasts, sit stonily on the bench looking at the black windows.

The next two hours are mostly blurs of bumps and false alarms.

The train slows but never stops.

A couple of nurses come with sharp needles.

I don't need pain relief. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts.

The chugging, that until now was like the steady drumming of my heartbeat, slows down while my heartbeat starts to gallop.

_SCREECH. _The train comes to a halt.

I'm not sure where here is but we're there.

The sudden grip of Katri's hand on mine sends shock waves coursing through my body.

I squeeze it lightly and smile into her deep hazel eyes.

"Good Luck, Katri."

And then I'm off through strange metal hallways, and down gleaming ladders.

It's like someone hit fast forward on a TV remote.

Time doesn't go back to it's normal rate till I'm safely enclosed in my chamber.

'Safely' relatively speaking.

"Oh there you are, dear."

Her voice belongs to a grandmother, not the grotesque designer in front of me.

She opens a drawer and hands me a thin T-shirt and long pants.

"Put these on. Shh!" She hushes when I open my mouth, "We don't have time."

I dress quickly, my heart pounding inside my ribcage.

The only distinct thought I can make out is that where I'm going, it'll be averagely warm.

Not like last year's games which were played in a winter wonderland.

I stand up from knotting my boots -leather, lace-up hiking boots- and take the jade-coloured rain jacket the designer is holding out to me.

I throw it over my head in a such a frenzied rush, it gets stuck.

"There, there," She soothes as she helps me tug it down, "No need for all this panic."

Easy to say I guess, when you've never had to volunteer.

The rain jacket is a nice fit, with many pockets, just like the brown pants.

"_All tributes, please enter the pods." _A hollow voice via speaker announces.

I try to gulp but theirs no spit to swallow.

My designer pats me on the back, smiling sadly.

"Good luck, love."

"_Five minutes until the games."_

Taking fugitive steps towards the glass pod I send a prayer to every god that ever existed.

_'Please don't let me die. For their sake. Please.'_

Placing one foot inside the pod pains me and I stay there, shielding my tears from the grandmother figure behind me.

"One more step, love," She says softly.

It takes all of my strength to climb into the glass container.

"_Two minutes until the games."_

My knees knock together as the doors chink shut.

"_Beginning ascent."_

The ground below me smoothly moves.

I see my designer give one last, bitter sweet wave.

"_Goodluck, tributes," _The voice says.

The roof above me opens and I am lifted into the arena.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Allies**

**Career pack:** Deimo Torn and Aubrey Edge, District 1, And Quilla Perchbridge and Maximus Sharp, District 2.

**Alliance:** Titan Rommel, District 3, And Talise Brokelynn and Coral Rubnatsky, District 4.

**Alliance: **Tara Able, Disrtict 10, And Darien Hatake, District 12.

**Alliance:** Seth Killian, District 6, And Lyra Yew and Granger Tillman, District 11.

**Alliance: **Tasi Merkava, Distirct 7, and Kasha Barric, District 9.

**Alliance:** Jordyn Flayin, District 9, and Orchid Haltin, District 8.

**No alliance formed to date:**

Sontly Volt, District 3.

Grit Gerria And Rosalie Aduriza, District 5.

Annoise Heflot, District 6.

Gekikara Castielle, District 7.

Colt Halter, District 8

Juan Nicre, District 10.

Katri Cronan, District 12.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N:** AND ALL OF THE TRIBUTE CHAPTERS ARE FINISHED!_

_Holy cow! Is anyone else excited?_

_Now that you've met them all, which was your favourite?_

_Thanks to continued support :') It makes me insanely happy._

_The poll is still up._

_I can see a clear winner._

_I may just decide to go against it, however (Woah, that rhymed)._

_Next Chapter will be up soon I hope!_


	14. Chapter 13, Let the Games begin

_**A/N: **It's here!_

_The chapter you've all been waiting for!_

_I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :)_

_You Game Maker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Chapter 13**

**Let the Games begin**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Orchid Hatlin, Female, 12, District 8-.-.-.-**

"_60, 59, 58..."_

The monotone voice buzzes in the air around us.

I know it's such a small thing to notice but my clock, the one that has been counting down inside my head for the last week, is right on time.

"_50, 49, 48..."_

I rub my hands slowly down my sides. It's amazing the moisture that's building up on my palms. My jacket soaks it up happily, the sweat clinging to the hard material.

It's a nice jacket; hard, waterproof material as the shell and soft fleece on the inside.

"_40, 39, 38..."_

Already, the minute is almost up.

And I haven't even taken stock of my surroundings properly!

I lift my eyes, trying to take all of it in at once.

But oh! The sheer scale of everything!

I drop my eyes back to the front of my platform.

I think I'll just start at ground level.

"_30, 29, 28..."_

Grasping at a shallow breath, I take in the ground surrounding me.

It's red clay, with a few orange highlights here and there.

A family of rocks are clumped loosely in front of me.

Tussock grows haphazardly at random intervals.

"_21, 20, 19..." _

I raise my eyes sluggishly. The golden cornucopia gleams in the setting sun. Boxes and bags are tripping over each other to escape the gaping mouth.

My eyes next take in the tributes. Some of them share frenzied glances across the circle.

I try to still my shaking hands and take in the huge cliffs boarding the narrow valley we're in.

Some parts of the cliffs are the same shade as the ground but other parts are darker; browns and blacks.

On the top of the cliffs I can just make out trees.

It's all so wild that the rope bridge snaking between the two cliffs sends a shiver down my spine.

We truly are in the games.

"_12, 11, 10..."_

I hesitantly glance behind me, looking for any possible escape roots.

There's a river directly behind us that trickles into a stream and runs down along beside the cornucopia.

The bush gets thicker behind me though there are patches of wild weeds and trees alongside the stream.

I listen closely and can just make out the faint roar of waterfalls.

"_7, 6, 5..."_

Running my sweaty hands down my sides I feel a small bump in my pocket that I hadn't noticed before.

I pull out the small object but my hands are so slippery that it slips from my fingers and arks through the air.

Without thinking, I take a step forward.

Too late I realise my mistake.

The ring, my token, hits the ground at the same time I do.

I don't even feel the the explosion ripping me to pieces; tearing me from life.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Juan Nicre, Male, 14, District 10-.-.-.-**

I'd already made the decision.

It might not be a smart decision but the adrenaline coursing through my veins could not be ignored.

I wanted to do something dangerous; something exciting.

So when the countdown ended I was going in.

And I planned to come back out.

"_3, 2, 1..."_

I was putting one foot in front of the other, but it felt like I was flying.

The brown and orange surroundings became a blur.

All I could see was the cornucopia.

What I was hoping to find was a backpack that contained all the supplies I would be needing in this hell hole.

I wouldn't be disappointed, however, to find a few weapons that suited me.

Some rope to make snares perhaps.

The thud of my feet drowned out the thud of Aubrey's.

I didn't hear, or even see, him coming till he made a tackle.

Then we're rolling on the warm, unyielding ground. My heart keeps in tune to the solid thumps Aubrey's fist makes when it collides with my face.

"What's that, punk?" He spits at me.

"Were you actually going to try take on us?"

Each word he speaks is coated in venom.

"N-no..."

"Louder you, wimp!"

I know where this is going.

I know I'm not going to survive.

So I muster what energy and courage I have and scream: "Get off me you, faggot!"

The thing with Aubrey is he gets angry at the slightest things.

Even the word 'faggot' was enough.

A bloodthirsty screech gurgles up through his mouth and he hammers his fists onto my throat.

The pain is overwhelming.

I wither and shriek.

To my horror, I also cry.

And then suddenly, all of the pain just vanishes.

The light surrounding me starts to get dim and I wonder eerily if the sun is setting.

I'm faintly aware that it's not because of the sun but because I'm dying.

A trail of blood bubbles up over my lips.

I watch Aubrey as if I'm an innocent bystander.

As if this is happening to someone else.

Spit is flying in all directions as he snarls down on me.

A heavy sensation pushes into my chest.

"It's really hard to stay afloat," I think sleepily, "With such a heavy weight pressing down on me."

"_Why don't you come down here?" _A tinkling voice wonders.

"I think I will." I reply.

The dark sea then engulfs me.

**-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Sontly Volt, Female, 12, District 3-.-.-.-**

Never in my life did I ever think I would be in this much pain.

I had stumbled off the platform, miscalculating the height.

Clambering from the ground, I heard yelling behind me.

So worried am I, that I didn't see the pile of stones.

I fell to the ground's hard embrace, hearing a sickening snapping sound.

The impact was by no means pleasant and my palms were laced with blood.

I soon discovered that wasn't my biggest concern.

I tried to move my ankle.

I knew my life was over as soon as I felt the overwhelming pain course through my body, confirming it broken.

Shortly, I heard the thudding of feet approaching.

Rosalie managed to surprised me.

I thought she would have liked to waste hours with her knives.

And I thought she would have at least taken her knife with her after killing me.

But all the lithe girl did was madly stab me in the gut, missing my heart and failing to retrieve her dagger.

I soon saw why she hadn't stayed around to play.

Following her every move was Grit, a sly smile stretching across his face.

Grit made a lunge for Rosalie but she swiftly moved, running for the tree line.

On her back bobbed a large backpack.

The pain, which up until now had been faint, was starting to get to me.

I whimpered slightly.

I knew what I had to do.

My bloodstained hands reach forward to take the knife from my stomach.

A silent moan makes my eyes water.

I positioned the now crimson blade over where I'm guessing my heart is.

I'm faintly aware of Talise, Coral and Titan bobbing along with their backpacks. They're running past me in the same direction Rosalie and Grit ran: towards the unseen waterfalls.

"Come on, Sontly. One last effort."

My heart gives one last beat before babbling to a stop under the force of the silver blade.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Colt Tane, Male, 14, District 8-.-.-.-**

The slight hesitation I had made on the platform was for the audience to see only.

I thought perhaps they would pity me and a few sponsors would come running to save me.

I hadn't actually expected it to do any damage.

Jordyn had a different idea.

I have no idea how he managed to survive the cornucopia scene; Demio and Aubrey were killing almost every tribute that came within four metres of it.

There were exceptions of course.

Titan managed to slip through the defence line and grab two backpacks.

I should have known he would figure out a way in.

Rosalie and Grit had also managed to get to the cornucopia, though they used a lot more muscle then Titan did.

They were making a mad dash through the bush now, causing a parade of brightly coloured birds to take cover in the air.

Whether the audience had seen me pause or not, Jordyn came at me, swinging this mighty axe.

It was the sort of axe that you're supposed to only hear about in old folk tales.

The weapon was too much for the boy, however, and he slipped to one side, startled by the weight.

That hesitation was enough for me.

I sprinted, fear coursing through my veins.

If only I had had the sense to see where I was sprinting to first.

I ran straight into the cold, beautiful Demio.

And one of her knives.

I was dead before I hit the ground.

**-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Jordyn Falyin, Male, 13, District 9-.-.-.-**

Seeing the only ally I had being blown to smithereens was quite devastating.

_To say the least._

It wasn't like I had really known her or that we'd been friends, it was just that she might have been my lifeline in these games.

An anger had started slowly building in me then, and when the countdown ended I was at boiling point.

I charged into the centre of the cornucopia without any real plan for when I got there.

I'm still surprised I've lasted as long as I did after that episode.

The axe I had managed to grab was way manlier then I had expected.

I was, after all, just a kid.

I had been so pumped too! The look in Colt's blank eyes when I swung had been priceless.

Too bad that I had missed.

I regained my balance and quickly turned around to see Demio take out Colt with her knives.

Some people would say she was smiling.

To me, it really looked like she was snarling.

She looked up, her piercing green eyes making my stomach drop twelve stories.

Then the cold steel is eating at my heart and the blood is pouring from my mouth.

But I never saw Demio raise a hand.

Falling to the ground, the agony is replaced by the cold of death.

Quilla's tinkling laugh is the last sound I hear.

**-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Tara Able, Female, 15, District 10-.-.-.-**

Darien and I had already decided our strategy.

We were to get out of there and into cover as soon as possible.

The tree line behind us looked good.

The only problem was that everyone else would think so too.

The gears in my legs were tuned to the countdown. I was ready to make a mad sprint away from the cornucopia.

But all it took was one look at the cornucopia and I was overcome with the same desire I possessed when I had first seen the Capitol garments.

I _wanted_ it.

I would beat Demio's sorry ass if she got in the way now.

The nearest item, a bag, was up and to the right of me.

It was about the size of a small suitcase with straps and dozens of pockets.

The countdown ended with a mighty bang and my feet spluttered forward.

I would never tell anyone this -It's even a bit hard to admit to myself- but when the countdown ended I chickened out a bit.

Maybe it would be okay for Demio to have the cornucopia after all...

I was still stubborn enough to lunge forwards towards the bag.

I scrambled a bit through some tussock, banging my knee in the process, and dived like a eagle on my prey.

A fugitive glance towards Demio and Aubrey sent me flying.

She had seen me, lying like a serpent amongst the shallow undergrowth.

She began a runway walk towards me.

And god, the way her legs moved as she strutted...

A green envy stewed inside me.

Why couldn't I ever be the pretty one or the leader?

My ears perked up as I heard the slap of her feet.

Tightly encircling my fist around the bag, I run.

Boy, do I run.

All the little hurdles in front of me; I jet over them.

I miss a jagged boulder by a pin head.

Her feet sound like the even pulse of an Ancient's drum.

Her breath leaves a sticky logo on my neck.

I am so close, I could probably reach out my fingers and brush the tree line.

Frantically, my eyes roll, hunting for some chance of survival.

I can make out the inky contour of Darien; a smudge against the other smudges.

His mouth mocks an upside down D as he watches Demio chase me.

"Darien!" I try to howl but the words strangle me silent.

The panic on his face is obvious. You'd have to be Colt not to realise it.

Then abruptly, it's all gone.

But only because he's high-tailing it through the scraggly forest at a bushfire pace.

I try to call out again, this time in blistering outrage.

Not a sound escapes my lips.

"Alright Blondie," Demio pants hotly into my ear, "Time to turn the lights off."

I'm like hot butter as Demio's blade goes right through me.

I have seconds left for two last thoughts.

My first: Darien must pay for leaving me to death. I don't know how because, you know, I'm dying, but he will _pay._

And my last: I'll never wear the beautiful garments that the Victor's tour brings!

And that last thought is a seriously depressing thought to die on.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-.-Annoise Heflot, Female, 12, District 6-.-.-.-**

I can't hear my sharp intakes of breath so the clouds of mist sprouting in front of my face are the only signs I'm panting.

That is, if you don't count the sharp pain in my chest.

Madly, I push my way through the undergrowth.

A couple of times I fall due to some unseen log or bush.

I never stop though.

Pushing my way through this sweaty jungle, putting as much distance between myself and the cornucopia, is the only way I'll survive.

I hit the side of the cliff fast, and unexpectedly..

Dammit!

I wasn't watching.

The terror pulsing in me climaxes.

I'm in a frenzy, almost doubled over in nausea.

If I'm not watching, I'm defenceless!

I know that.

I've always known that.

A five second daydream could cost me my life!

I should just get it over with and take a knife to my heart the way I'm going!

But I don't have a knife.

Or the guts.

Rubbing my nose from the impact, I climb back to my swollen feet.

The cliff face is much higher then expected.

With dizziness, I have to accept the fact the top is well out of reach.

Tears start to trail lazily down my cheeks before I notice the startling red amongst all of the green.

It's such a contrast and so out of place, it has me in shakes all over again.

Comprehending has never been my strong point and it takes me an age to stand up from the ground where I'm whimpering and take two shaky steps forward.

I struggle to coax the red object out from it's hiding place but at last, it pops free and we land in a pile together.

It's some rectangle shaped box thing.

There's four green looking buttons labelled: _traitor, killer, lover, follower._

Examining it closer, the light suddenly dawns.

Trailing my fingers over the bright blue letter spelling out _'Aubrey', _I'm almost in ecstasy.

**-.-**

Ecstasy can be dangerous though.

Some say it was my deafness that killed me, other say it was the ecstasy at fault.

One things for sure though, I didn't hear it's spine-chilling snarl nor did I see it's metre long fangs.

Not till it was too late.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**District 1: **Demio Torn

Aubrey Edge

**District 2:** Quilla Perchbridge

Maximus Sharp

**District 3:** **Sontly Volt - KILLED – By Rosalie's knife**

Titan Rommel

**District 4:** Talise Brokelynn

Coral Rubnatsky

**District 5:** Rosalie Aduriza

Grit Gerria

**District 6:** Annoise Heflot

Seth Killian

**District 7:** Gekikara Castielle

Tasi Merkava

**District 8:** **Orchid Haltin - DEAD – Stepped off the plate early**

**Colt Tane – KILLED – By Demio's knife**

**District 9:** Kasha Barric

**Jordyn Falyin – KILLED – By Quilla's stars**

**District 10:** **Tara Able – KILLED – By Demio's knife**

**Juan Nicre – KILLED – By Aubrey's fists**

**District 11:** Lyra Yew

Granger Tillman

**District 12:** Katri Cronan

Darien Hatake

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N: **Wow. Just wow. I'm really sorry I had to kill Tara! But it just felt right! :P_

_I'm sorry if I upset anyone!_

_Poll is still up._

_Will be up for ages._

_Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys make me happy :)_

_Mwah! Till next time!_


	15. Chapter 14, I can sleep when I'm dead

_**A/N: **In truth, I gave up on this story._

_But you guys didn't give up on me._

_So I'm back, baby!_

_Your gamemaker, Ellie x_

**-.-.-.-**

**-.-.-Chapter 14-.-.-**

**-.-.-I can sleep when I'm dead-.-.-**

-.-.-.-

**-.-.-Katri Cronan, 13, District 12-.-.-**

If only Panem could be at peace.

Then there wouldn't be all this blood.

This terror.

Before the Games had even officially begun, I had to shake bits of a _person _from my hair and wipe blood off my skin.

Moments before, what was now just a confetti, was a living, breathing girl.

One slip and it could have been me.

While I was scanning the valley that embraced us for an exit, I briefly caught the gleam in Demio's eyes.

Slitted, like a cat targeting it's prey, they were.

Aubrey's were more open; chaotic.

All around me, the sun caught the hunger in their eyes.

Even after death, I will be haunted by those stares.

In my grave, I will toss and moan and become a thing of nightmares.

I will never forget.

As soon as the countdown ended, I turned to the left side of the gulley and the wood that clung to it's sides.

I figured most tributes would run towards the right, where the foliage seemed richer and the cliff face more forgiving.

I was also relying on the fact that no one would notice me vanishing from the throng of killers.

They didn't notice me in training, so what reason would they be given to notice me now?

Oh yeah. That's right.

Survival.

The clay pavement between the semi circle and the forest was where I would be most likely spotted.

If someone even turned their head a fraction, they would see me, like a defenceless bluebird flying to the treetops.

But no one did.

Perhaps they were too immersed in the blade casting rainbows across the dead.

Or maybe it was the blood painting the clay.

Either way, as soon as the leafy green enveloped me, I was hugely relieved.

I slumped behind a rock and heaved until I had strength to move again. After that my feet didn't stop at their breakneck speed till I was truly hidden underneath the leaves.

Quiet, thoughtful step, after quiet thoughtful step, I now keep a steady pace.

The forest, or more accurately the jungle, looks harmless enough.

Clumpy bush and wild knot grass nestle against the twisting sweet acacia trees.

Flowers with six white points, like stars, spring up and hassle the weeds.

Every which way, it reeks of harmlessness and bitter sweet flora.

I shiver slightly, as a soft wind waltzes with a ring of daisies.

This place gives out a feeling, an aura, that contrasts with it's appearance.

This is a place of twisted dreams.

I haven't seen an animal either, or any sign of life other then the stench of tributes.

No croak of a frog, nor buzz of bee.

I am alone.

It doesn't bother me though.

I've always been alone since the 'accident'.

Even in a crowded room, I feel alone.

The sun, which began at twilight, dips behind the horizon and the darkness starts to settle and the shadows start to stretch.

The hands of the Game makers have hurried the clock.

But why?

My bones are staring to moan, but I don't dare think about sleep. I keep walking.

And walking...

Walking...

The clay underfoot begins to soften and the weeds become heavy, until I am standing on grass.

The star flowers and daises thicken while the trees spread out, creating an opening.

Dominating the space is some sort of shape and one hesitant step brings the structure into focus.

There, underneath the jungle moon, is a wall.

It's solid, grey brick with the same white flowers climbing the sides like ivy.

My lips part in shock. I would never have thought, in a wild place like this, something even remotely human could exist.

Though as I move closer to inspect it, it begins to give off the same pulse of alienation the jungle before it did.

Curiosity is a killer they say, but I'm far too tired to care.

I see my silver fingers unfurl out to brush the brick wall.

My pulse pounds, the hair on my neck stands on end and the falling sensation in my stomach heightens.

It builds as my hand gets closer.

And closer.

Like a butterfly's caress, my fingertips lightly brush the stone.

And nothing happens.

No sparks.

No hidden doors appear.

With disappointment, I gallop towards the left side of the wall.

It corners and continues to the other side of the clearing.

It's a box. A square.

A room in the middle of nowhere.

Curiosity has taken the reins now. I clamber towards the wall and grab hold of the vines.

Inside, I might be safe.

Inside, I might find refuge.

A few pulls and tugs, mighty lunges and scraps to my palms, and I reach the top.

Drawing in my breath sharply, I swing my legs over and land roughly on top of the wall.

In the last two weeks, I have been surprised and scared out of my wits more times then I'd like to count, but never before has awe completely overpowered me.

That is, till now.

The air around me is thick with the stench of sweet pollen.

The star ivy crawls across the stone and into the room.

Soft moss carpets the floor and an assortment of flowers crowd the space.

I drop lightly to the ground, my lips separating as I brush a rose bud or fondle a lily.

Perfection.

That is the only word that will suffice if I was ever asked to describe this room.

Not a weed or flaw in sight.

I spend what feels like a decade standing there like a half wit until my ears kick in and I hear it.

Perhaps it was playing already, but a tinkling music starts to flow like a river over the garden.

I float towards it's source, entranced in the beauty of the petunias or the violet fuchsias.

If I was thinking, if I was truly smart, I would never had let myself be trapped like this.

But in a world full of horror, a bit of pretty never seems to hurt.

At the back of the garden, the flowers spread out, handing over their space to a shimmering seat.

In this dim light, it glints a dim golden.

It's not the seat that captures me though, nor is it the seat that is creating the music.

Upon the delicately crafted bench sits the most glorious creature, surely, ever forged.

His eyelashes are those any girl would envy, his skin a pale brown.

His black hair slicked back like a Capitol man's.

A waistcoat and shoes I could see my reflection in, is the cherry on top.

His dark eyes glimpse towards me, and he sluggishly drops the pipe to the ground.

It bounces slightly on the moss, coming to a rest at my feet.

I reach for it, but he's already there, coming to collect it.

We're so close, his eyes searching mind.

His lips start to shape and I expect to see a smile that could tell a thousand stories yet keep a thousand secrets.

But the grin that stretches across his face is anything but heavenly.

His mouth full of razor blades makes a lunge at me and I dodge it by centimetres.

He picks up the reed flute and hurls it at me. I fall to the ground and it smashes into the wall behind me.

Golden wings, a similar texture to the fur of a lion, unfurls from his back, ripping his waistcoat to shreds.

Momentarily, I am enchanted by the hunter gleaming in his eyes, but he lunges at me and I'm darting through the roses.

All while scattering myself under hedges and tangling my feet amongst the vines, his breath leaves the hairs on my neck stand straight.

Up to now, I believed I had at least a pint of control over what was happening to me.

That's when I see the corner where the rock walls meet and kiss.

He's herded me here, like I'm no more then a stray cow or sheep.

There is no where to go, no where to run.

Never did I think this Garden of Eden would be my grave.

I claw at the walls fruitlessly, hearing his wings sweeping the sickly sweet air away around me.

One deep breath and I prepare myself for death.

Whimpering, eyes fixed at the scratches on my arms but not feeling the pain, he swoops.

They say curiosity killed the cat, and I sure as hell believed it was going to kill me.

**-.-.-.-.-Tasi Merkava, 16, District 7-.-.-.-.-**

I'm running.

Running so fast, the grass and trees merge together in one giant, green blur.

I'm sprinting.

Sprinting so hard every cell in my body screams: "Stop Tasi! She can't be worth it!"

And to be honest, I don't know if she is.

To be honest, I don't know who she is.

Kasha and I were resting amongst some fallen trees when we heard the scream.

It was a high pitched girl's screech, followed by the beating of heavy wings.

And yes, I know, Kasha has told me many times, the more people killed by others the better.

But that's just sick.

So I got up from my perch on the rotting tree stump, not bothering to retire my laces, and I headed for the noise.

Kasha was confused, yet she ran on my heels.

I can still feel her words being thrown at me from behind.

She's a nice girl, Kasha is.

She's made me laugh when I've felt like lying down and dying.

I've made a home in her smile.

But she wants to win.

So when I started for the screamer, she tried to stop me.

She pulled on my jacket.

Hit me on the back.

Shouted words that were whisked away by the wind.

I didn't stop then. I'm not stopping now.

I break past the foliage and stumble into a small clearing.

My fast feet flatter as I take in the brick wall in the centre of it.

It's unearthly. It pulses like a heart beat, releasing fear into the air.

Yet it is so beautiful. A piece of art, that brings a grown man to weep over it.

"Oof!" Kasha crumples as she hits my suddenly still body.

"Tasi, what the..."

Rubbing her head, she stands up beside me and her eyes catch sight of the building.

Transfixed, she falls silent.

I'm taken back to the training centre, what feels a life time ago.

Although the wall there was metal, and this one stone, they could be sisters.

"_Poor little pup."_

I shudder and Kasha sees this. She places one delicate pixie hand on my arm.

"Tasi? What's going on?"

_Someone needs us. _Those words are already formed on my lips when I see a human hand scrambling, trying to grasp the wall's lip.

This wall is a killer.

I'm quaking, terrified at the idea of facing the wall again, but I can no longer ignore this person's plea for help.

Throwing caution to the wind, I bound across to the wall and seize the flailing, scratched arms, hauling them over the wall to safety.

I glimpse quickly a beautiful man with a sharks smile taking one last lunge at the girl before she drops limply into my arms.

Then the alien face is gone.

"TASI!"

Kasha hurtles across the field.

Her eyes are wide and her usually flushed face pale.

"Did you see that... that thing? Was it a... a..," but her voice trails off as she drinks in Katri, bloody and torn.

My knees weaken and I sink to the floor, cradling Katri's limp form.

Kasha kneels with me, tears glistening, matching the tears dripping from my nose.

I know she's not sorry in the long run.

I know I shouldn't be sorry either.

But no life should ever be lost.

Each is far too precious.

The Capitol seems to have forgotten this.

But they'll remember.

We'll _make_ them remember.

I sob into Katri's ginger hair, grieving for the loss of a friend I never knew.

She was only a child.

She had not seen the change of fourteen summers.

And that, more then anything about this girl, broke my heart.

"Tasi?" A weak voice asks from the frail body.

I lean back astonished, wiping my eyes, to find the young girl's heart still beating.

"Katri! You're alive!"

I can feel my smile warming the night air around us.

I cling to her in a joyful embrace but she coughs and I lie her back down.

Kasha watches the trail of blood fall from Katri's mouth, and slide over her chapped lips.

"Tasi..." Kasha barely whispers, "She's not going to be alive for long."

I lay a giant hand on Katri's forehead protectively and raise my eyes to meet Kasha's.

Her green eyes are dewy and leaves cling to her curled hair.

Never have I read minds, but I feel as if I can read hers.

"I'm not leaving her."

I scarcely whisper it. The breeze picks up my words though, and continues on to hurl them at Kasha.

She flinches.

"I'm not leaving her!" I say louder, over Katri's rasping breath.

"I'M NOT LEAVING HER!" I howl to the moon.

Katri is the girl I saved, in place of the puppy I could not.

And today, her life shall not be lost.

**-.-.-.-.-.-Aubrey Edge, 18, District 1-.-.-.-.-.-**

"There we go," Max grunts as he chucks the last of the dry wood onto the bonfire we've made out the front of the Cornucopia. He dusts of his hands and looks around wearily for the matches.

"Don't worry, I've got them," I pick up the fire-lighters at my feet, strike one and sit back in satisfaction and warmth as the wood goes up in smoke.

For two careers this is a fairly civil exchange.

But then Max isn't you're average Career.

He has too much good in him.

Sooner or later, I'll have to do something about that.

But not right now, when I'm still glowing from this evening's killings.

And not so soon, as we'll need his brawn as much as we'll need his wit later.

Maximus stands, holding his hands out to the fire to warm them.

I lean back on my hands only to find them in a puddle of someone else's blood.

I smile slightly, wiping them on my pants.

Although it's a nice reminder, it's still pretty gross and I shortly join him.

Quilla sits across from us, cleaning her new daggers. Occasionally, she looks up to make eyes at Maximus.

He's completely oblivious.

Demio, that witch, went to investigate a noise she heard at the beginning of the tree line.

She isn't back yet, but I'm not worried.

She almost has as much fight in her body as I do in mine.

_Almost._

I figure she can handle herself.

She handled me anyway, back on that stage in District One.

When I refused to shake hands with her, she laughed.

And I remember on the train, her cool touch and her fiery eyes.

"_Aubrey, be a dear and pass the salt?"_

_Her eyes were huge and she fluttered them at me with sarcasm._

"_Of course, anything for you Demio," I replied, venom dripping from my tongue._

Our leopard-print escort had decided we were being "far too nasty" to each other and had placed a ban on hateful words.

_I place my fingers on the lid of the salt and give it a sly twist._

_'Here you go, Demio."_

_She takes it wearily._

_She begins to tip it and the lid wis about to come off, releasing all the salt in the shaker onto her meal._

_She's watching me as she does this, looking for a give-away on my face that something is going to go wrong._

_She must have found it._

_At the last moment, she puts it down._

"_You know what? I don't need any more salt."_

_She winks at me and sets the salt shaker down._

It was a petty trick but one that would have given me the slight upper hand.

That night when I went to bed, I was in for a surprise.

On my bedside table was the salt shaker and a note.

_My forehead frowns as I pick up the card and read what she had written._

"_Nice try, Aubrey. Sleep with both eyes open."_

She was not just a pretty face. She was on to me on day one.

She would be the first Career I would kill, I had decided then.

I knew, when the hour came, I would be the first she would target.

"Look, here comes Demio now... What's she carrying?"

Max's deep voice woke me from my thoughts and I drag my eyes to where he is looking.

Demio slinks out of the trees carrying a struggling... Animal?

No, the colour isn't right for a wild pig or dog or any other Game creation invented.

As the form came into focus, I see Quilla's eyebrows arch.

Demio is dragging along a struggling Darien Hatake.

As they grow closer, we move like a pack towards them until Demio dumps the boy at our feet.

He's whimpering and crying and snot hangs from his nose but he isn't bothering to wipe it.

"Not so courageous now," hisses Quilla.

"I found him snivelling behind a boulder back there," she jerks her thumb behind her, "He was muttering something about a _her_. Any ideas who _she_ might be?"

Darien's sea-green eyes are wide open, unblinking. He rocks himself back and forth at my feet.

I crouch down to his level and wave a hand in front of his face. He doesn't react.

He mumbles something that I don't catch.

"Speak up!" I yell, spit flying onto his face.

"TARA!" Darien screams, "TARA! PLEASE! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have ran! I'm sorry!"

And he breaks down again, hiding his face, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Her eyes..." He moans.

Quilla makes a move for her knife but Demio stops her.

She has a psychopathic glint in her green eyes.

"Let him suffer..." She whispers, hungrily eyeing Darien's shaking form.

Maximus shakes his head in disgust at Demio.

It's not the malevolent behaviour of Demio that is the reason for my reaching out to snap Darien's neck.

I just want to beat Demio; to have the upper hand.

There's a sharp crack and then it's quiet.

Demio lifts her bedroom eyes to me with a snarl.

I panic then.

Because in that moment, in that light, she has my mother's deep emerald eyes.

How disgustingly awful is that?

How can the past tempt me so?

It gives me blow after blow, and after the one time I punch back, it kicks me till I'm out of breath.

This is just another kick.

I had always loved my mother's eyes, and now I've been made to love Demio's.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-Rosalie Aduriza, 16, District 5-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Stumbling out of the woods, I fall to my knees on the pebble beach.

Who knew Grit could run so fast?

I'd led him through the forest at break-neck speeds, occasionally loosing him only for him to catch up again.

I know I should get back up and hide.

But I'm tired.

So tired.

And the air I'm inhaling is sandpaper to my throat.

Devastatingly, my nails are chipped.

The trickling of the stream is all I can hear now and I crawl towards it sluggishly.

I sink my hands into the water, cooling the scratches on my palms.

I'm about to bring the fresh water to my lips when from across the other side of the river, Annoise breaks through the foliage with a shriek.

I freeze.

She clambers over the stones to the river and plunges in.

While the water washes away the mud plastered in her hair, I vaguely see from the light of early morning, her face relax.

She looks as if she was running from something.

A wild growl erupts from the Jungle and brightly coloured birds take flight.

Annoise spots the birds and eyes wide with fear, she ducks underneath the water.

A while passes and she comes back up. In the brightening sunlight, I spot the long scratches down her face.

Her attention then turns to the small object she has clasped in her hands. She beams at it, then hugs it to her chest.

I let the water from my hands fall, which make small splashing noises against the rocks.

Slowly, I lean forward, curious to see what the object is.

Annoise leaves the river, placing the red box on the rocks.

She kneels down at the riverside and consecutively gulps down three large gulps of water.

Returning to the device she examines it closely, occasionally kissing it as if it was a small child that needed love from a mother.

Three minutes pass of me watching her watching it.

Three minutes pass before she begins to shake.

She shivers only, and then she quakes as if an invisible man has taken her by the shoulders and is yelling in her ear.

She blinks repeatedly and her mouth violently chatters.

Then she falls backwards, relaxing, the box falling from her grip into the river.

Shocked, I'm frozen. The rising sun slowly melts me and my brain kicks in. I wade through the clear water to the other bank and Kneeling, I lean over her mouth in search of a breath.

Nothing.

I place one delicate hand at her throat.

No heartbeat.

Just like that, she's dead.

But what killed her?

The box?

She was so entranced by it that she did not realise my presence from across the stream.

It must be interesting, and perhaps valuable. But we're not talking _money_ here.

We're talking _survival._

In which case, I must have it.

I hunt around me but the stream has carried the box away.

Disappointment momentarily rocks my body, but I am my father's daughter.

I will follow the stream to find it.

I glance back down at Annoise.

She was so young. Yet her eyes were so old.

Such youth should not be wasted like this.

And most importantly, my youth should not be wasted like that.

Searching for a clue to Annoise's death, I realise my hands are turning blue.

The cuts that I washed in the water are pale slits like scars, yet they're bleeding.

My piano playing fingers begin to shake.

Suddenly, I get it.

It's the water.

We've been poisoned.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**District 1: **Demio Torn

Aubrey Edge

**District 2:** Quilla Perchbridge

Maximus Sharp

**District 3:** **Sontly Volt - KILLED – By Rosalie's knife**

Titan Rommel

**District 4:** Talise Brokelynn

Coral Rubnatsky

**District 5:** **Rosalie Aduriza-Poisoned but alive**

Grit Gerria

**District 6:** **Annoise Heflot – DEAD – Poisoned by the river water**

Seth Killian

**District 7:** Gekikara Castielle

Tasi Merkava

**District 8:** **Orchid Haltin - DEAD – Stepped off the plate early**

**Colt Tane – KILLED – By Demio's knife**

**District 9:** Kasha Barric

**Jordyn Falyin – KILLED – By Quilla's stars**

**District 10:** **Tara Able – KILLED – By Demio's knife**

**Juan Nicre – KILLED – By Aubrey's fists**

**District 11:** Lyra Yew

Granger Tillman

**District 12: Katri Cronan -Critically injured- Severe blood lost from the 'Angel' in Eden's Garden**

**Darien Hatake – KILLED – Aubrey snapped his neck**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**A/N: I hope you enjoyed**! Reviews are always important, especially if you didn't enjoy it! I have NO idea when the next chapter will be done._

_The poll will always be up, so go ahead and vote.:)_


End file.
